Sometimes I feel like such an incredible nothing.
Pulling on both sides of the thought of being happy. The only person that can truly make
ones self-happy is our self. Yes,
connecting with people on all sorts of levels can bring tremendous joy; even
just thinking of such thought, action, as a source full parsing is being happy. When you sit and lookout from your
eyes, with a stillness that clings to your inner being, anchored, and its
unwillingness of willpower keeps somber.
In many respects grappling the loath of what this feeling is
of nothing, hedges underneath the umbrella of subjugation. The willingness to
sort out the conflict is a course but in turn, turning these thoughts off is
not of the matter.
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