don't tell me what to do, bitch.

no more finals.
one more critique.
i kind of want to squirm and
bury myself right now.

i saw a bird making gathering wet leaves for a nest.

it helped me realize that life doesn't matter anyhow,
because mother's still eat their young and birds still use
cigarettes and mulch to make their nests
and people still hate eachother and i still
want to eat cheese and i will always hate dumb bitches
who tell me what to do.

there is no more magic, it's all lost now.