(Thanks For The Reminder.)

Think about how quickly things pass by and are gone. Existence flows past us like a river. So it would take an idiot to feel self-importance, or any indignation, either. As if the things that irritate us lasted.

(MA)

I think I have an ulcer. My brain is such a foreign thing, so much doubt (can I really do nothing right?) negativity irritation cancer. The best thing would be to quit this town where madness prowls, out to supply hostages of these damned. I used to not be able to imagine ever being apart. It's funny, all these stupid cliches, and truisms, and they wouldn't be truisms if they weren't true. You only hurt the ones you love, right? Such a pitiful feeling of helplessness, of hopelessness. Like a little child. Can you tell me what this is all for? Can you remind me again of my purpose? Because my hands get cold when I type. My eyes strain to see through a lens. My fingers slip through holes in my pockets. And the soul of my shoes are wearing thin.