And just didn't want to get out of bed?
That was me for the past two days. Something is on my mind. Guess the shit it worse than I thought. I just keep thinking about some shit I guess. Sleeping more, but at the same time, waking up to the same reality everyday. I feel as though I'm missing part of myself. Shit is real. I barely write as it is. I have been writing in the same damn book since November. I'm usually done after 2-3 months. Who the fuck knows. I just don't feel complete. I can't explain it. Maybe I need a pick me up. Maybe I need to surround myself with people so I don't feel that way all the time. Only when I'm alone do I even have the time to focus on the bullshit. Just so happens I'm always alone. Who knows... Maybe I'm trippin'. Holla.
Peace, Hip Hop, and Purple Rain
Gangsta Cru
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