Hesitant laughs are all I can muster as my future (my carnal futuristic idolatry??) is ripped to shreds. There's gotta be something missing, maybe. THERE'S JUST GOT TO BE A REASON.
Heh-heh. It'll be all-right. I'll pull through this just like the last 5 semesters. Just like the last 5 semesters. Just like the last lifetime of feeling biased and uncomfortable. Just like the paper-mache world propped up with cheap acrylic painted cardboard crashing down like stars from some obligatory self-imposed heavens.
I don't wanna create. But I wanna show you I could. I wanna show you these hands that won't ever work an entire day are precious and perfect and unfathomably potent. That underneath all of the still unfilled fill-in-the-blanks and all of the the falling stars of heavens under the sun, there's something here! There's something underneath this pale veined skin and you can tell me that it will be better than all-right. Tell me it will be better than all-right; it will be better than all-right because the world submits to me and my subtle genius and my ambushed psyche. And the world bends to the gravity of all that these hands refuse to produce and I will move forward unsucceeding, heroic, and vague. Just like the last 5 semesters. Just like the last lifetime of feeling transparent and apologetic.
Dear Daniel, judgment day is approaching. And I'm scared to say you aren't prepared.
Because it never was about a shoddy future or a tendency to laugh instead of moan. It has forever been about you. You. What are you?
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