I feel like I'm just moving along in this life so slowly, my pace sluggish and weary. I go through each day doing the same damn repetitive things, and it's driving me insane. I dream of stars, and comets, and an endless, deep blue midnight sky, but when I awake, I'm greeted by the foggy air of the morning, and the whirl of the air con. I've found that my own chance of happiness is quickly vanishing, so I've been focusing all my time and energy on helping others. I'm not even sure why I bother, but I guess that it gives me a small sense of hope that maybe, just maybe someone will help me in return.
Though I've realised by now not to get my hopes high. The higher they are, the harder they fall. And they always fall.