these wretched thoughts

“21 guns”; green day plays on the speakers at full volume, because i need to tune out the world and hear my own thoughts. this is what i am thinking, right in the now.

i wish i could, i wish i could. but i can’t.

so much going on, so many plans, so many ifs, so many inadequacies.

the rambos, do not realise how much i miss them, now that we have our little cocoon of happy.

i  just hear your story; unadulterated.

there is this sense of suffocation; of the inability to move, or think, or rest.

need space, need space, need space.

just let me breathe a little, please?

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c

my world, out of your reach

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