You tell me

[abalooska]

Sometimes, love, money,, glory, all those goals, hopes, and dreams people jealously covet are like the raindrops coming down outside my window. Sometimes you can predict the torrent, and sometimes not, but each one of the many is unique, from the moment of its creation right until it's end. Some land and give the green of life to the whithering, drying brown, still others splatter uselessly to the pavement, forming muddy puddles of dead potential left to evaporate from existence and later from memory. We do our best to isolate ourselves from the downpour; flimsy umbrellas, suffocating roofs, cold sheets of glass...We allow only the sight and sounds to reach us, all other manifestations left for the unfortunate, cold and alone, dropping with bright flashes and deafening noise, only apreciated and understood by a few. Each drop forever unatainable, even despised, only remembered fondly amidst the sweltering droughts of stillness and decay.

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Well fuck me, it's taking all I have not to cancel and forget it. And that, me luvvies, is what happens when Nage is left alone too long.