I've buried myself in deep, well over my head with goals (that live only in my head). There are innumerable things I want to say, to write, to present. But I have no idea where to start. I have no organization of thoughts, though. My brain is a cluster-fuck of ideas, and it's a mess that I don't want to clean up.
Why can't the world fix herself so that I don't have to worry about the bitch. To those who think there is someone in control of this fuck-riot we live in -- go segue something long and flexible into your posterior entrance.
You can make the world as beautiful or as ugly as you want it in your head, but there's still a shitty mess to clean up, and you're not helping by standing there like a stupid fuck.
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