Laying alone once again, picturing a better time. Listening to a familiar note. Reading a repedative word. The same over and over and over. When will it change?
They tell me it'll be alright. They give me false advice. But that's not good enough. Sometimes it's best to vent. Sometimes it's best to listen to someon else vent. But instead I sit here and type. I listen to that familiar note, and read that repedative word. I ignore the false advice and rellish being alone. I hear nothing now and see nothing now. I become part of the shaddow.
And when thrown back into the world of speach and sound and thinking out loud; I don't know what to do with myself. They don't help me. I carry on with the thoughts in my head, immaginary friends fallowing me. The same note, the same word the same sight. No different from the day before.