Your mornings are lighter.
Mine are filled with lead
I wake up to gray.
I sit in beige.
If my life is styrofoam then my mornings are lighter too.
Whatever can I do?
Are we forever through?
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Mostly these things are supposed to be short amusingly depressing musings. They aren't, and will never be, good. You will be happier when you stop hoping for anything better.
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