Keep thinking of going far away; all I really end up going is mad
Think I’m going a little mad.
My hands won’t stop shaking and I’ve become obsessed with idea of just hopping on a plane and going somewhere far away. I don’t know where or what I’d do about the mortgage, the businesses, the job, everything.
I was once very happy on this little beach in just south of Denmark. I was also once happy in the Forbidden City. I was also once happy in my little apartment off 5th Avenue. I was also once happy here.
My #$@$#@$@# hands won’t stop shaking.
And I still can’t sleep.
Think I’m going a little mad.
Location: @12:10AM, almost hitting 90 on the West Side Highway.
Mood: Weird
Music: I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go…