On the finer things in life. On the simpler things in life. On the contentment. Fuck it, I don't know anything. I wonder how much I'll have to drink to not to want to break shit anymore. Or I wonder how much I'll have to drink before I start breaking shit. If it were up to me, you'd be dead by now. Or me. Doesn't matter. I wish one of us was dead. On the good days, I hope it'd be you. On the bad days, I hope it'd be me. DOESN'T MATTER. May we rot in hell. But even in hell, I hope you don't find me.
