what is a day, but a day

When I think about tomorrow, I think about how it can be better than today, and a mountain of expectations are placed on this fetus day. I feel bad, you know? Too much pressure is placed on it. It is just like any other day. It is only a new day for a split second, and then it becomes just another day, tattered and tired and hopeful and run-down and spit on. And then, I start thinking about the next day, you know? And how I’ll polish it up, make sure it’s better. And then, the next thing you know, a year passes by, and each day – they mattered but they didn’t. And you don’t really know what matters at the end

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