,,My kind*
..I never liked my kind.
I always hated them.
They were akways depicted as villains
As cold hearted people with no remorse.
...And there was no remorse
Ever.
For none of us
And I hated it.
Fake it till you make it
But you will never make it
You are yourself.
..You laugh and cry
You smile and scream
..and yet there js something abnormal about You.
..You always used to say how ,,if anyone would come to me and say they did Something so bad,no one could ever forgive,i wouldn t even care.It s their life"
....I should have had a second tought when that came to mind.
...Funny,isn t it.
How you never escape the think you hate the most.
How you either are or become it.
..And how it kills your purpose in life.
There was always this question for everyone ,,what is the purpose of life?"
..I soon figured that life had a different purpose for everyone and ,,I chose" mine to be ,,making art and being a good person"
..A long time ago i lost almost all my taste.
I have glasses so my vission doesn t see art as it s supose to be.
..And now I am finding out how any art that exist can t be percieved fully by me because,well,because i am different
I am like them
...I try to be good
But I try to be good because when I found out that nothing mattered,I wanted my moral compas to be something dear to me.
..not because I will ever be capable of being truly a good person.
..I can t really deny it,either
Everything checks out.
Everything makes sense..
...Sucks,doesn t it?
To trow yourself a pitty party like they would.
To look at everyone and everything and not see anything besires some shadows.
...To never ever be able to see what you want to see because ,,you need glasses "
