All we see is red. That is all we are permitted to see. The world is a puzzle of blues and greens, but the lives crawling across its surface are drenched in a crimson blanket.
We have been suffocating for too long.
"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."