What am I doing?
There are things I should be doing. Things I should be worried about.
But I'm not.
What am I doing?
Where is my purpose?
What could my future possibly hold?
I keep staring at these empty walls and thinking about how right it feels. Like these walls should be bare. And things should be boxed up. My things.
They shouldn't be here.
And neither should I.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts.
RandomNot a diary. Not a story. Just random thoughts that I have no where else to put.
