I sit down in front of life.
Self assured, self annoyed. How much thought can one put into being who one is?
-I'm not sure.
The satisfaction of privilege. Opening the door with my badge or my keys. Saying what I want at the time I want. Making people laugh. Knowing how to make people laugh. Knowing when people have no idea of who they are. Knowing who people are. Not being able to control the urge to open social media. Wanting to dissappear but not going at it. Reading fast when I want, but no being able to read when I don't find it interesting. I usually hate many parts of existence, if not most of them, just as much as I love them.
We all suck, even at sucking.
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