rambles from a girl who reads too much. Isnt quite poetry.

 the war raging inside of your head isnt nearly as bad as the reality you live. Reading books creates a better reality  in my head than life makes an actual reality. ITs bland and boring and amounts to nothing. I want to read and write and aspire to somthing and changes lives ( might be the incorrect usage and spelling) because what is living if its only for yourslef. What even is living? Nobody is really living. We're just surviving because we cant do much else. Most cant afford to truly live. 

Everyone thinks the social issues are the ones revolving around inequality, but what about the issue of living? Who actually lives?

 

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