Is there really anything wrong with leaving, finishing uni makes you feel like you need to prove something and continue and show someone that it was all worth it or something and doubt fetches your focus when you see other people popping up all over the place on social media doing really well in the world, getting involved with art projects, doing good and getting noticed.
These are definitely attractive paths but why does if feel so wrong to entertain them now?
We are all comparing our selves with each other, sweltering in the heat of pride and personal pressure and assumption of the correct life goals but really there are non.
own goals are there to own, no universe for similarity and content in copying or following, just be one of those not one of them, do you and your classification follows, trying not to actively fit anywhere for the sake of others’ eyes, fitting to the feeling of the gut does more for the future. Not lurching and latching to the rosie pink of onlookers mirrors of desire. Who is and who isn’t doing what they want, who does have the ability to listen to their heart and who is just doing what they think they should be doing.

I’m formulating information here, maybe to make myself feel more confident about being the same as myself

I am the same as the mirror said she watching intelligent movies
whats the difference between inspiration and false hope? One of them is already clear, the other clouded
why am I not doing nothing asked facebook
Shakespeare probably took coke
the working backhand of trace fails to be mindful as I panic in this state as calm as cash money
piles of it and piles of it
I’m so in the position yet nothing can be reached
so I presume, channeling my grandmother so I presume to as she presumed I was “good at life”
maybe I am good at life and it’s only the view that taints it
A writer reveals, I am no writer because I made this up
precisely Lamoine, be fair and fare out,
Make some eggs on toast and shut the fuck up

Now that I feel nothing is solved and I’m still hungry my shoulders can drip a bit but down
WHy is it that I feel my life is being calved by the dead, the life that they never had falls in my hand with precision and regards of luck,
Like all the things I’ve ever lost came back in his form
I fear this compatibility and share stability with honesty
my being so honest is sculpting greatness and love,
I loved him in the dream he died
too organised for my habits,
I realise that things can happen, Things can actually be growning for greatness and my comfort in a non existent plan is blasted and a sublime outcome appears tumble drying my fears
Let me live both, my it feels good
my my its not mine why suggest it England, his Cornish heart forgiven
for this is undeserved, its as if I can really see him yet
the grad scale of greatness lies with making my bed