lwalms
It may be solved, but it is sure not resolved.
I think about algebra. I think about summer.
I think about running and also about running away.
I can't get images from movies out of my head.
I can't think straight.
This feels endless.
Everything just repeats. The cycle remains unbroken, and nobody notices.
We all sit here wallowing in our broken world, with broken homes and a broken sense of self.
But none of us ever thing to turn our heads to the side and notice the rows of people who are doing the same.
We aren't alone. But we choose to be lonely.