It's as if someone has painted the windows black, but it is only night, and has been for as long as I can remember. I cannot recall if I have gotten out of this bed today or not. These legs of mine are getting tired of carrying around all the extra weight from too many heavy thoughts. I try to smoke them away, but I just keep breathing them all back in. These cigarettes might **** me, but not if I beat them to it. The years keep adding up, but nothing else does. I'm done hoping for things to get any better. They never do.