faster than a bullet.
faster than the speed of light.
i want to scream, but it strangely feels good, comforting that i've grown to sit back and relax. laugh. mechanical laughter. is this what my life's become? full speed without a rest stop in sight? reattach the breaks and hand me a map: i want to go home.
my ties are starting to wear thin, which sounds like something familiar to my motivation. this falls onto deaf ears, but in the end aren't you the only one that matters?
i'm the little engine that could, but can't.
chuga-chuga choo-ch--i've run out of gas.
someone please help, give me a push to keep me going. i can't give up, not when i'm in the middle, but it's so easy to just let go over everything and fall back down the hill to the beginning. trying involves too much effort and sucks too much of your strength away nowadays.
i think i can, i think i can, i think i can...
