Maybe life isn't pink.
Maybe some of them are among us.
Maybe one day, we'll have to kill the people we love the most.
Maybe one day we'll be free.
Or not.
"I hate how the human race complicates things. You're born, and then you die. The space between that is a grey area. It's a blank line. It's all up to you on how you fill the line. You can write good or bad or spontaneous or wonderful-it's up to you. The only catch is that you don't know how long that blank line is. And it sucks that I want to fit spontaneous and wonderful on that line, because for some reason, it got cut too short."