Junk.

Everyone's lives are full of junk. Stuff that we'd rather stuff in a drawer and leave there. In the junk drawer.

But sometimes it sneaks out. All that worthless junk we keep. Kind of like a roommate I had- this roommate just kept tons of crap. small boxes, containers, packaging. Eventually only to throw it away. But not that junk- that's not the stuff I speak of. I'm talking about the proverbial junk drawer.

The place where I hide my resentment. Or the secret place where stress dwells.

Every time I hear the song I'm listening to, I get a sort of distress about things. Talking only me and you. Where do I hide all that time? It goes somewhere.

That's one thing I'll never know.
One thing I do know: It is always stupid to shave your arms... but if you must go Rockford Fabulous- at least use an expensive blade.