In my hour of darkness, no, your not there. And tho, I reach out to you, couldnt lend a hand...
I struggle to put words on paper, my thoughts are else where.
My motivation has left me alone with black thoughts of just frustrated emotions.
This writing puts me no where closer to archive a goal, yet my ramblings of of my shadow, the man I used to be, is all thats left to speak. That person is tired, tasteless, tattered, worn, stale... yadda yadda...
You need something new to read, I need new emotions, to write about. Excitement, joy, wonderful creations in between these lines of gibberish.