Now it seems to me, some fine things
Have been laid upon your table.
But you only want the ones
That you can’t get.

Desperado,
Ohhhh you aint getting no younger.
Your pain and your hunger,
They’re driving you home.
And freedom, ohh freedom.
Well that’s just some people talking.
Your prison is walking through this world all alone.

Rode from 85th back to Eastlake with M, talking about Maine and why it ravages me. After, while riding the rest of the way home I was thinking about this girl who I didn’t really know who had committed suicide when I was a teenager. I remember thinking about how I would have been happy to be with her and that she didn’t need to be so alone. The more relationships I have, the further I feel from everyone. And the more those feelings of youth feel naive.

M was at the prefunk. That’s just, whatever. I can justify feeling any way, it doesn’t change anything. The feelings don’t change.

So another night, where I cut myself short. I keep myself to myself. I feel like I have to protect everyone from me.