Breaking away from my dramatic score that has plagued my blog these past few posts, I find myself in a mood relatable only to a surrealist. It takes a lot to bring me down, but I found myself drowning in self-pity. Hoping for an answer isn’t any kind of solution and finding that out is probably more than most can bear. Hope was the last line of defense before breaking into a monogamous string of failed attempts at joy. I take my thoughts with a grain of salt, knowing they belong to some other privileged disheartened degenerate. I doubted my circumstances as if they’d dissolve like acid flavored breathe strips. I’d thrive in an altered state of mind, and I’d break down the mental barriers that engrossed my blissful reality. Until I reached the core of this augmented reality; I ran a streak worthy of newly famed icon. It wasn’t until I realized what had made me happy prior to my fall that woke me up. And until that moment I hadn’t felt real. It wasn’t till then, did I really smile.
We never live; we are always in the expectation of live.Voltaire
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