(no subject)
If you were to ask me, which you wouldn't. I would say something prolific, I would tell you something that touched you. If you were to ask me. I would say, fuck those people, those people, I would say are fools. They are fools because they don't seem like fools, in every inch of their lives, they make sense. Because they are fools. Not like you sweat dreamer. Dearly beloved idiot, wonderful ugly mutant, there is nothing like you and you will someday kill these maniacs that stifle your very existence. You wouldn't ask me, but I'd tell you; there isn't a lot in life, but there is one thing, and it isn't love, it isn't some kind of magical god or such nonsense. It is that thing in your heart that they want to kill, they want it to die and you to live, and the only thing you can do with any kind of vindication is to stop them. Die first, before that unsaid notion in you, before the idiotic idea that you could be content, die, and rot, forever, before they murder what they want to needlessly murder. But you wouldn't ask me.