I miss yellow lines in my roads. Some color on monochrome. Maybe I'll paint them in myself.

I've been having difficulty watching my friends and acquaintances graduate and move on with their lives.
They're moving away.
They're growing up.
They're zombie getting jobs.

And I'm still here.
I'm still zombie here.

And you're still talking to me.
Still zombie talking.
After all these years.
I thought you were dead.
No. You're a zombie.

This fucking sucks.