It's as if the world is infinite, everything is possible and nothing will ever end. Everyone will be great, beautiful and euphoric.
But the words are mute; the letters stripped from clothes and the sentences rid of a cadence. Whatever you say will lose value, importance. Nothing that is made by you will append to actions. History. We are slippery. Maybe you'll feel as if your feet are running in slow motion on a dreamlike river street. Laugh now, cry later. Laugh loud and big and scream, scream! SCREAM! Turn those laughs into deafening screams of hysteria!
When you look back, you see echoing and blurring faces of youth, melancholy, seize less happiness. You look down and, there, in the water beneath your feet, are the hands of the present failing to capture you, trying to drown you in life's motion picture. Strong feelings, dramatic people and, disappointing outcomes. Future is scaring you with bold eyes that hold mysteries.
Fuck them with hatred. Beat their emotions with pseudo poignant words. Rip apart their skin until their blood merges with your molecules! You are emotionless!
Revel, you piece of shit.