The clock ticks life away [Hey Assbutt]

I’m trying something new out.
This is a Hey Assbutt, but supercharged.
Contrary to Instagram’s beliefs, I don’t smoke all the time. In fact I hardly ever do, and I always leave at least a few days in between because it fucks with my mood. But whenever I do, I like to smoke alone. It’s my chill time, it’s not a social activity for me. Unless I’m close with you, I probably won’t want to smoke with you. I don’t like doing it in public places, I don’t like doing it prior to a public activity (i.e eating at a restaurant), because the whole point is for me to relax. Smoking and then doing something anxiety inducing defeats the purpose. I usually spend the time listening to music, eating, and then probably napping before I sober up. Sometimes I’ll even write some bullshit, as I have done here; I guess the ‘new’ thing here is bullshitting the high thoughts I have. Right now I wanna bitch about what is probably the most important thing to me: time.
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The sun goes down (20/03/1976 – 20/07/2017)

Imagine.
Imagine I almost cried when I read Chester Bennington’s note to Chris Cornell after his death. Imagine I write a tribute to Chris Cornell on his birthday. And on that same goddamn day, Chester Bennington is found dead.
Chester fucking Bennington.
Honestly, I’m distraught. I wrote in the last post that Chris Cornell’s death was the only one to affect me. Well, girls and boys, make that one of TWO deaths to affect me.
Let me tell you that Linkin Park were a big part of my entire child/teenhood. My entire. Teenhood.
God.
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You can move a mountain, you can break rocks

I feel overwhelmed with strength
so much strength that I may shatter if I clap
my hands out of joy
so much strength that I am exhausted
after a day of carrying myself around
so much strength that walking with my head up
torments my neck with cramps
so much strength that every step I take creates cracks
in the path I am about to take
and I am going to break.
– k.


Now Playing: Hall of Fame – the Script