As I sit here, looking at this screen, Listening to
depressing songs
Looking at clouds covering majestic mountains, in realms far
beyond dreams of many,
And thinking of people.
Thinking.
Of people, and how I love some of them, and how I hate some
of them, and who I would die for, and what did I do to
deserve some of them, In both ways.
Of love, generally and specifically, of my person, and of
how too many know of it already, and of how delicate this
web is, and how if it fails in one point, the rest shall
prove too weak as well, Of Chances, as if there were ever
any for me, as if this is a game of dice,
As if there were ever be any for me, but these thoughts are
not productive sadness, so I turn away.
Of the realm I gaze upon, where deeds can happen, more
beautiful and more horrifying than anything that can ever
happen on earth. Of sacrifices that took place there, And
epic battles.
Of education, and why must I endure things that I don't find
interest in.
Idealistic songs by REM.
I look at what I wrote so far, this really makes little
sense, But it isn't supposed to, I just spill my soul on
virtual paper. How fun. Weee.
A bit amusing, how I must belong in a mental institute. Such
a flaw in the system.
Such a flaw in production, I am.

So much for now.
This I dedicate to love, friendship and hate.