Homes for Butterflies

I wanna go back to the beginning.

There’s an episode of the Simpsons where Mr. Burns goes to the doctor’s to find out that he’s barely living.  He’s barely living by the strangely fortuitous circumstance that hundreds of different diseases he has attacking him are all trying to do so at the same time and are therefore somewhat canceling out.  

That’s how I feel.

Right now I want to cry, scream, breakdown, and throw fits.
But I also want to frolic, laugh, hug everyone I know, and go climb a fucking mountain I’ve got so much energy.

However, the reality is I’m acting like a drone.  I’m kinda just… here.  I’m not smiling, but not quite frowning.  My statements aren’t quite pessimistic, but good luck finding the optimism.  

Even now… I write just to clear my brain, not to vent.  So yeah.  Das wussup.

you don’t know

what we’ve been through

but we dont want it

no, we dont want it.