-->Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.<--



It's the ideal form of perception. I mean. In the end, you were born alone, you will die alone. But when is the last time you went outside and felt the breeze on your face, breathed in all the air around you and thought: "This is MY life. I can do whatever the hell I want." If that means getting fucked up every weekend or even every day, then that is your life you are living. If we're always seeing things from our point of view, then, ideally, we are the number one person in our lives and our opinion matters most. First person. But choosing hate over love sounds silly. Yeah, it is very fun to hate the bitch that dated your ex, or the person who was too shallow to live up to their words, the person that shit talks you, the person that lied to your best friend. But what is the point? Hate creates this black hole in your chest that fills it up and clogs it. Those days, with the breeze, you can't feel them if you're stuck in a sense of teenage wasteland. You get in your car and you light up a fag, roll the window down and just fucking LIVE for once. Life gets so cluttered with the "ifs, ands, ors, and buts." Life is exactly how you deal with it. Yes, life is this endless bottomless pit of oppression and agony, but can't we appreciate it for what its worth?Without death, there is no life. I know, sometimes, you just want to stand under a tree and let your bare feet connect with the roots that reach for Hell. Or climb the tree as far as you can go to grasp the branches that long for Heaven's touch. Or maybe you just want to lay on the patch of green grass under the tree and lay there forever. Maybe take a nap. Then wake up and feel that 'I just woke up' high sensation. A natural high. What if we were capable of sleeping forever? Not dying, but sleeping. Dreaming and having the sense of "This is not a dream" When in actuality, it is. That very reason is why people do drugs. They never want to wake up. And who does, really? You can appreciate life without having to appreciate reality. Reality is cold and dark. Dreams are warm and inviting. Let's all roll down a soft patch of grass on a hill and accept it: we can NEVER keep a moment. We are always alone. We can live without ever facing reality. Or, we can live with reality in a sense of purity and wholeness. We can hate one another. We can love one another. WE CAN FUCKING LIVE. It's like that feeling you get on a ride. That deep butterfly feeling? But you only get to keep that feeling for so long, then it goes away. How much are we willing to sell our souls for? Do we even have a soul to sell? I feel as if love and beauty are at my fingertips, but I have no way to get them into life. And even if I did, where would it go? A piece of paper will become confetti. The blog will be lost amongst The World Wide Web. A painting will be put on display for a few years. A performance will be forgotten. Is that why art is so beautiful? Because it doesn't last? Does anything last? Does anything even fucking exist or am I just a game someone else is playing? Do false realities make everything better? Or just numb? Do having false realities make me a bad person? What is a bad person. Morality? Heh. We've all set ourselves up in a game. What do our lives even mean? Absolutely nothing. That is why they are the only aesthetic grasp we have. The breeze on our faces and that feeling of being alive. Or that feeling we get when we're messed up. That feeling that this is all a dream. That's all it is, really. Just a big, fat, lonely, dream. And there isn't a way to wake up. Get punched in the face. Hate a stranger. Pop a pill that makes you feel like tomorrow won't come. Go outside and spin around until you fall on your ass. This is your life. And it's ending. One minute. At. A time.