Everything is fun until your world crashes down and someone you care about dies, it's fucking great, isn't it? You just can't wait to face another day, put on another face for a bunch of fucking zombies who don't know shit about anything. Your money and your asinine goals and tasks, your job, your fucking pills and therapy. That's all it is. I don't care about any of that. I never have.
People talk and it's just sounds now, just grunts and sounds from a bunch of mannequins that talk. They touch each other like slobber..and snot. Oozing and nasty..it's sickening, it's a virus and it spreads, everybody get it, I've had it, you think I haven't had it.
Wanna know something about me? Here's the truth..
God knows we're as fragile as dreams and he made some of us endure it for a reason. It's like being afraid you'll die and then afraid you won't.