Jazz hands are overrated.

I keep having to remind myself, "Nick, you have to remember to feel real." I am have not one shred of sympathy for another these days. Countless times I have been countlessly lied too. I have found that a best friend that betrays is the friendship that decays. I have noticed myself sleeping on a bed full of apathy. Not caring. Not wanting to know. Not caring to know.

Everyday is a constant plauge. I have a single hope for winter. Just so the cold will kill this horrible disease. Below freezing temperatures will finish off whatever has been getting to me. But then sadly, the air outside will warm again, and I will be sick.