She sits outside, a scarf wrapped round, a barrier

Writing, what is she typing ? Out on the balcony

In the fresh sea air, she faces away, her expression hidden

A sigh, her ribcage moves up, but then she stirs, stands up

And comes inside. Maybe it just got cold.

No Comment

Fuck it

I thought about doing all these things, and life and stuff

But fuck it

I mean, it doesn't really matter anyway

If you care about anyone else too much

You forget about yourself. You forget what the whole point is

The point is not to do everything, but

To do nothing, and then do it really well

Fuck doing everything, all the time

Fuck saying what people want to hear

Fuck living up to your own expectations

And fuck saying fuck, because it's only a word, one tiny word

So fuck saying fuck

And just stop

Stop worrying about working when your not working

Stop going to bed early just because your bored

And fuck having to move all the time, why can't we just stay still in one place

What's wrong with staring at the wall

Fuck everyone else if they want to be boring, they can

They can live how they want, but I won't join them

Being good is good, being bad is bad

And fuck being bad, I'm a good person

I care a lot, screw being judged

We're all starting to be dead inside anyway

Why have we found the word sad

When it should just be human

Everyone is sad

So the answer to life? No Comment