It's the chill. The people from distant memories. The whining of the ticker. The reminder that there still exists the one above who still wont hold doors for proles. The reason why I can never evereverever be free to be. Be what I feel. Be who I am. Just a ghost, wondering around softly and unannounced. Passing through this night.
A reminder regaurding suburbia. [No longer the frequency of the flashing red light] How utterly devastated things are without notice. {"Think gas is bad, go food shopping."} Even eight dollars is less than what I earned last year. Without doing the math. Ignoring all the useless figures about how much inflation has allegedly spiraled upwards. They can't tell us with a straight face.
Back to normal. Sweating grades while working a tedious job, staying up till 230 and writing because I've got no reason to wake up in the morning.
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