Here we go, mind dump, fully and freely just letting it all go.
I don't know what to think, I don't know what to do. I just want things to be perfect.
Why is that? Is that a fault? Is that a good thing? Or should I not even worry about it?
It's so strange how much I can feel. Not feeling as in the sand on the beach, though that's lovely.
More like feelings, emotions, the stuff that people write about.
The stuff people die over.
The kinds of things that seem to be, at least to me, eternal.
Why is it these common human emotions are consistently written about?
We all feel special, yet are we? Or are we just all the fuxking same?
Snowflakes? Or clones? Does anyone know?
Probably not, that would make it too damn easy.
And that's not the way life is.
Life is, 'A bitch with a 10 inch strapon.'
Ouch.
It hurts, often, burns, kills even.
The lovely things people write about, and the shitty ones, are all common.
Are there really 'unique' views? Or in our ever connected world, are we all alike?
