the sweater song

it's been all the way easy for me to get under pressure. I would be tired of the chores I had to do everyday, I would be unforgiving to those faces I had to see everyday, I would torture the way I live.

Eat, sleep, and repeat.

I don't want to listen to the people complaining, the rush of early morning trains. I wish I could be a typical protagonist who possesses huge confidence and freedom to do their own thing. I wish I stood that out, I wish I wasn't afraid of being odd.

I wish I could pull back my shoulders, chest ahead and strong face, stern brain that could turn out the world. But who am I? What am I? I've always ended up on the last line, tearing my eyes apart, shredding some shabby tears,and drowning my head deep, sinking into the stack of pillows and bolsters and blankets, like someone who just saw hollow ghosts and refused to talk to world.

I wish I had a friend, who is just like me here.

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