Disaster is?

From sad to true, what else is there to do, suffering forever and a day, when will this shit go away, longing for a life a bit more stable, a life with so much potential-anything able, no more standing and crying in the rain, no more hunting for a vein. Pricking holes in yourself a million fold, man - these complaints are getting really old. What the fuck is there actually to do, how many times more- yourself can you screw? Never having the strenght to stand up & move on, rather wishing: on its own this disease will be gone. How fucking stoopid can one person be. Start using heroin you asshole and i promise you will see...


'Twenty-five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination'
4 non blondes - whats up