wat m8

 
 
 
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At times I might think I need the rest, but who would want to go back there? It's already hard enough, to say I need it. Bad memories and good times, keep me from believing that I can still jump off. No longer, no longer the same. You grow accustomed to seeing the sun in a different location. Standing still becomes a chore. Anxious to get the pavement moving. The easy solution to this and everything else is to move on. It comes equipped with the last word: They find ways to drag you along and dismantle what you created. It's already hard enough, to say I need it. Bad memories and good times, keep me from believing that I can still jump off. No longer, no longer the same. You grow accustomed to seeing the sun in a different location. Standing still becomes a chore. Anxious to get the pavement moving. Happiness is not having to lie on the floor dead alone. Happiness is not having to.