ape $hit...

My thumbs won't stop typing, they've a mind of their own, just like the rest of my body. Of guilt and boredome I can't determine which is harsher master. Both drive me to the brink. And how do you deal with feeling guilty about being bored? Somewhere right now someone is dieing, being raped, getting used to a wheelchair. all I can do is bitch about not being able to sleep and feel sorry for myself. That's some ol bullshit. I want to do something meaningful. But my intentions are meaningless when my body won't obey they simplest of commands. Go to fucking sleep. But the words continue to pour out of my thumbs, and Right now I doubt everything. I would scream, but when your a tree alone in the forest, why even bother to fall? Doesn't it take the same effort not to? Is the effort of uprooting my life not the same as that of pretending to care about things? I'm not sure anymore, even about the sunrise...