Another day, another batch of “nothings” to fret on

I don’t get this, why things are becoming as they are.
I don’t understand it, where my melancholy is from; I lack nothing so why am I gloomy?
I don’t know why I’m changing in everyone’s eyes;
For me, I see the same jaded personality staring back at me with a face that smiles less. I feel less of a need to make greedy good friends feel good and safe about themselves while I stew in my melancholic metaphors.
Some days I feel I’d be better off a heartless wretch, but I deal with living as a Davey Jones caricature, only my heart is locked in an ice cold chest that’s still lodged in my chest. I don’t have a key for that.
Maybe, just maybe, if I could make the same kinda funnies and one liners Marvel comes with I’d have better reviews and more friends hanging on every pun and maybe have an occasional fling or two to boot. That’s just a maybe.

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I am me. I am Me. I write when I want to be free.

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