Winter is just cold and darker. Days are shorter and it's better to be inside.

Winter kind of sucks, but it's easier to stay warm in the winter than it is to stay cool in the summer.

Winter brings snow too though, and snow slows everything down. And forget about walking and driving through the it.

Freshly fallen snow looks wonderful though and again, it's easier staying warm. Layering up...?

It's close but I give my vote to ... summer.

A shart is a fart that took with it a tiny bit of feces.

A shart is a misjudgment and also an inconvenience, especially when not at home.

You have the wet ones and yes, the solid ones.

I'd rather let a wet one go over a solid one.

I've done both.

Solid ones bounce around inside your draws, eventually becoming a tiny cold lump of doodoo coal.

The wet ones might dry up and one can be easily forgotten. Ever played basketball with a small dried-up ball of poop?!

I myself have not managed to decipher my bodily feelings that indicate, fart, and no fart, ... until then there will always be this precarious nature to the squeezing out of human gas.

Limbo...

Where to go?

I don't know.

Haven't known in a long while and

the longer I live, the deeper in the middle I get,

In between here and there.

Wherever this place is, I've really never known where that actually is.

I am lost but yet not lost.

Because I am with myself

somewhere and aware that I'm lost.

Even when it's with no one else

but still, my compass stays pointing and spinning.

Is it lost too? Broken?

Am I in the wrong space altogether?

Well, whatever.

I'll just stay floating in the middle here forever I guess.

I feel like I'm floating in the middle of my chest

all empty and airy,

full of void.

Even when you're sitting or standing still at home or anywhere that isn't a plane, train, or any other motor vehicle, bicycle, roller skate, or skateboard you're still moving from one spot towards another ... perpetually.

Time is just the Earth's wobbly spin and its orbit around a sun falling through space. Our clocks and calendars are just instruments that track these movement and help sync our days with one another's. And while falling through space we get old.

So in time (traveling through space) we slowly break down and die returning to the dust in which we came from, the very dust of our planet while our very planet remains in perpetual motion from here to wherever, forever on end. Perpetual motion.

Writing a story is sharing a story. Which is why I feel every human being should be comfortably able to write any story of any kind so that one can share whatever story they'd like to. Whether it be fiction or non-fiction we all feel like when we have a story to tell, it needs to be told or written, and and by the way, sharing a non-fictional one can be so therapeutic ... let me share that!

Can you imagine getting paid for listening to anyone that needs to do just that ... share a true story of whatever. ... I'm gonna look into becoming a talk therapist.

Even when you're sitting or standing still at home or anywhere that isn't a plane, train, or any other motor vehicle, bicycle, roller skate, or skateboard you're still moving from one spot towards another ... perpetually.

Time is just the Earth's spin and its orbit around the sun and its wobble. Our clocks and calendars are instruments that are in sync with these motions. But while falling through space we are getting old. That's our time. Getting old.

So in time (traveling through space) we slowly break down and die. That's what time is ... to me.

I know who I am

I ain't shit

I suck

All right, so what the fuck

Fuck all of yaw

Fuck my addiction

Fuck my anger

And fuck all of yaw again

This shit wack

Yaw all wack anyways

Why go back

Go back to that?!!?

Yaw clueless anyways

Clueless on all what YAW believe in

Go ahead and Believe in yaw self

And leave a nigga alone

I will forever be alone anyways.

We all are born alone and we all die alone.

Addiction. ... Addiction. It's a big word

It has a definition that weighs heavily.

Really heavy. Like really heavy.

And I have to hold it.

And I hold it on my shoulders like it's my fault.

While all of us humans are all addicted to something.

But if it's alcohol or illegal drugs.

Then something is really wrong.

When I go to the store.

I get lost in my mind.

And I don't know why.

Is it because I'm so caught up at home?

And I'm not alone mind you but still, feel alone.

And when I go outside I feel like more alive.

That's when that feeling of escape feels wrong.

That's when I begin to feel lost.

It feels like an escape from jail.

Am I wrong or is this actually normal?

And now I'm lost in thought.

Especially when heading back home comes with a twinge of pain.

Am I overreacting or like I feel is it something really real?