Everything is always so melancholy for me. I shouldn't complain. There's nothing really bad. There's just nothing really good either. And so, the melancholy.
And for some reason, I thought there was something different happening this week. And here I am today, in the same place I was last week. And wishing things were different. And not knowing how to make that happen when everything relies on other people. I can only make so many changes for myself. And there's the complaining again.
And so I'll stop talking. And I'll wish that I could stop thinking. Just for a little while.
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