So. My birthday is in two weeks. Yaywhatever. So far all I've asked for is a clarinet. That's pretty much all I want. I probably won't be getting it, due to money issues. Yeah. I'm sad. But whatever. Doesn't matter. My love of music is not anymore important or better than my dad's "love" (read: Addiction) of beer or my mom's "love" of cigarette's. But whatever I kind of really don't care right now. Or rather, I care so much that I've gone numb. I don't know. I get the short end of the stick. My brother has his clarinet. Going to college. Has a car. Almost out of the door. Me, I'll still be living at home for another four or five years or something and the world will still be in debt and I'll still be whiney and stupid. Probably. Maybe I'll die before then. To be honest, I can't see myself as an adult.
But whatever. I'm not sure why I'm writing this. I don't think it matters. At all. So yeah. I'm gonna stop now.
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"I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath——little of Earth in it—
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute: —
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer by."
Hath——little of Earth in it—
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute: —
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer by."