Music comes from above my room, this dog i barely know sleeps in my bed he has gained control. Punctuation does my head in i want to not use it but others will judge my intelligence i'm judged every day .,; " ?!

I have gathered all these things, but i hate cleaning up after them...the dust comes back the second i wipe it away. I sometimes watch it form on everything, i spend half hours just watching it form from the particles i have just got rid of, it turns my stomach.

I invite people over, and regret it right away. I cant look at their faces. I have nothing to say. I'll make things up. Say what i think they want to hear. I instantly question why they are here, what it is they seek by keeping me company...i'm bored with my self from way back...

There are lies in our eyes.