this bitch be shipping.

the backlog of pending thoughts is filling up all the space in my brain, like the queue of a printer trying my best to spit out a single document while the person at the computer slams their fists on the keyboard and rages and clicks the button over. and over. again.

I want to clear the history of my mind. let my train of thought sit in the railyard and rust over. let the local kids graffiti the boxcars with curse words and crude pictures like the ones I used to love seeing from the car window, marvelling at how people really can just do whatever we want, if we allow ourselves to.

I wasn't a bad kid. I wasn't a bad kid. I was a curious kid. I wanted to experience the full range of the human condition, say yes to every plan, meet every type of person, see every dark corner, feel every type of pain and shame and anger that exists.