This music hall feels as empty as a whore's heart.
I want to know where my inspiration went.
Perhaps it's hiding behind the mountain of fast food containers.
Damn us college kids.
My mind is racing as I glance over these scales.
The notes remind me of weighted down balloons.
God forbid they escape.
As I watch the other students mingle, I wonder of their lives.
Do they really understand the concept of life?
Why won't that girl blow her nose instead of snorting for fifty minutes.
Is this hall their escape like it is mine?
Fuck these questions.
Too bad this writing sucks.
My mind is lame.
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