I am living a cliche.
Never fall in love. Never give your soul to anyone. Never tell them how you really feel. Trust is a myth. The world is a big abusive place and society would sooner sell your organs on the black market than donate one to save your life. Not the people who raised you, not the people who say they love you. We are animals. Youre all phony animals. Eating eachother's feces and hearts out, and I couldn't be more disturbed. In fact I couldn't hate you much more than I already do. I sit in my room. I burn my incense. I hate you. I wish I was high. I wish I was some ambigous being capable of being one with the room. I wish I felt nothing and was nothing. I'd rather live in the air, let myself blend into its molecular structure than be forced to conformity with all of you. With youre phony love songs and youre meaningless education, youre mindless traditions, youre fake friendships and youre ticking death clocks that you spend wasted following a variety of rules you created that make you miserable. Yes. You could very well say I am a misanthrope at heart merely because I was born the complete opposite and well abused for it.