The Unbearable Restlessness of Being

Watching the Olympics and protesting the Olympics at the same time. 

It's weird hanging on to youth or pleasure, because the things that once brought you pleasure can so easily slip from your care.

Few things interest me. 

It's a fight. 

Struggling to write, struggling to sleep, struggling to eat.

This isn't a cry for help but direction.

I understand deja vu --I have been here before --day in and day out.

The sameness, the lameness, the aimless. 
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When will it rain?
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