Wash, rinse, repeat. We are products of our own cycle. I try to take a step away, from self destructive tendencies that tend to get the best of me. My mind plays tricks on me sometimes. If I wait long enough, I can catch myself in a lie. Is this how I really, feel or is this my subconscious trying to screw with me? I'm not sure. Pushing through, pushing through. I feel so much better when I push through. But sometimes, there comes a day where I succumb to the feeling of infinite weight. I can't move. Won't move? Will I really like it when I get over there? Or should I just... stay? I never want to feel that way again. Yet I know I will, someday. Life comes around. Products of our own cycle. I mix my colors with my whites, add some fabric softener and hope for the best. I like to live on the edge. But for now I think I'll settle for a little objective observation. Catch the old dog doing her old tricks. What makes the bitch tick? Can I find out, or will it be too late? They say it takes about a month to create a new habit. How many weeks till I cut out the bullshit? Life comes in circles. Products of our own cycle. I let my reds bleed onto my whites and now they're pink. I hate most shades of pink, except the shade on my nails. That obnoxiously loud "look at me" pink, that's okay. I chew my gum loudly and pop bubbles on the train. It takes the edge off. Wash, rinse, repeat. We are products of our own cycle.
