Dear Art

Dear Art,

Each moment I do this is gasping for air. Each second seems like a part of my life is wasted. Each time I don't stop and coerce myself into continuing, a tiny miniature piece of me breaks. Each time I put more of this worthless information in my head is less space in my own head for my dreams. But some things you have to go through to let some good come through. And eventually none of this will matter. Doing things you hate for money and killing yourself each day so that you have food to live. Art, you are my love and I do miss you but working in this company feeds my ego and I get respect from my society. I am ashamed of myself to be ashamed of you but art I don't know how to leave everything only for you.

I hope to be yours,

An Ordinary Guy