Verse

Do you ever think you’re not
Do you ever think you could be
Do you ever think

§

What do you mean you’re not doing enough
You’re fucking killing it
With all that’s going on
Still doing more
Yet you plan on doing more
Going even harder
Stay blessed
Life will be better
And if not
Then your perspective will be

§

You’re more than enough from your perspective
Maybe not from theirs
Both are true and valid
Just which should occupy your mind?
Truly, neither
But when faced with the choice, it should be obvious

A genius is merely one who has a great idea, but has the sense to keep quiet about the other thousand inane thoughts

The pain, my love
Is worth all the beauty you hide

§

I’ve spent too much time alone to naturally be with others
To be naturally with others

Master your mind
Everything else will follow

I love that I’m me

Everyone has issues
But act like they don’t
A play of life

§

You’re gonna have to do it all alone
Don’t become frustrated
Don’t become an angry, antisocial loner
Aim for the quiet, peaceful master
Who so happens to be alone
Remember your favourite song
And the little boy you used to be
If you never have anyone to love
You have the memory of him

I did not lose my youth
I saved my life

§

Nothing will defeat me
Except, maybe
Love
Am I kidding myself when I say maybe?
Maybe

§

I have
No one to be with
No one to hang with
No one to laugh with
No one to smile with
No one to play with
No one to dance with
No one to talk to
No one to express to
No one to excite with
No one to celebrate with
No one to cry to
No one to cry with
No one to sorrow with
No one to live with
No one to love
But I do have me

It is the unity of imagination and reality which brings ecstasy of being at one with all
The inner world aligned with the outer felt by our thoughts and senses
For once we feel a dream
At complete peace
A stability between the two worlds we live

§

When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop,
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign, is Solitude

— Wordsworth

The hard decisions are almost always worth it
Small little highs never really are
I’m sorry

Keep on living