you cannot measure a life in monetary value. there isn’t a number sufficiently equal. it’s just not possible.
i’m so bloody fucking exhausted all i want to do is lie in a heap for at least a week straight. shut all the lights, curl up in a ball and forget the whole world. but instead i get to deal with all the insanity going on here. i should be used to this kind of bullshit right now, but i’m just too tired these days.
this house breeds insanity, and stupidity. i’m positive of it. it hasn’t felt like home in years, every moment i spend here is awkward and uncomfortable — the walls are too close and thin, it’s stuffy and unbearably hot and dry, there’s clutter in every corner — and all i want to do is get the hell out of here.
mine :
