MyownPoetics

Well, here we go.
          	 #Where does it all start?
          	
          	August 3rd, 1984.
          	
          	I'd like to think we're all actors which co-depend on each other as we do our part in a play. We all contribute to each consequence, each factor, each moment. It has happened because of some action someone somewhere has unknowingly done. Subsequently allowing the play to move onward. After all, the show must go on. Isn't that just one hefty metaphor for life?
          	
          	“There are no more victims in the class of '84. They are all marked for death and received their blades. All except one." 
          	
          	That's what we found scribbled on the back of a crumpled piece of paper last month. Most of the others shrugged it off as some stupid joke, but I couldn't. Not after everything I've seen. All seems so innocent, so neat, so perfect. Yet perfection has its cracks. If you look deep enough, this place has its way of making you question what's real and what's not, bending your mind to fit its rules. They regurgitate the same words. "Performance shapes the future." But they never mentioned what happens when you fall short. And some of us have.
          	
          	We don't all perform at the same levels. Some of us are worse for ware, and others hog the limelight. Everybody has their moments. Though some are afforded more recognition than others. I used to think they had good intentions with these words, now I wonder if it's just about *survival* or *decrepit favouritism.* I thought this was for the  best and brightest, and in a melancholic, horrific way, *I was right.* Reminds me of the time I said to Katie "I told you so." I'm sorry for abandoning you all..
          	
          	So if you don't follow their rules, or you don't perform to their impossible standards, they take something from you. We subconsciously knew that if we underperformed, we would face severe punishment. So we simply pretended it never happened, for the sake of our sanity and innocence. Then it formed into denial, then it formed into.. why we died.

MyownPoetics

Well, here we go.
           #Where does it all start?
          
          August 3rd, 1984.
          
          I'd like to think we're all actors which co-depend on each other as we do our part in a play. We all contribute to each consequence, each factor, each moment. It has happened because of some action someone somewhere has unknowingly done. Subsequently allowing the play to move onward. After all, the show must go on. Isn't that just one hefty metaphor for life?
          
          “There are no more victims in the class of '84. They are all marked for death and received their blades. All except one." 
          
          That's what we found scribbled on the back of a crumpled piece of paper last month. Most of the others shrugged it off as some stupid joke, but I couldn't. Not after everything I've seen. All seems so innocent, so neat, so perfect. Yet perfection has its cracks. If you look deep enough, this place has its way of making you question what's real and what's not, bending your mind to fit its rules. They regurgitate the same words. "Performance shapes the future." But they never mentioned what happens when you fall short. And some of us have.
          
          We don't all perform at the same levels. Some of us are worse for ware, and others hog the limelight. Everybody has their moments. Though some are afforded more recognition than others. I used to think they had good intentions with these words, now I wonder if it's just about *survival* or *decrepit favouritism.* I thought this was for the  best and brightest, and in a melancholic, horrific way, *I was right.* Reminds me of the time I said to Katie "I told you so." I'm sorry for abandoning you all..
          
          So if you don't follow their rules, or you don't perform to their impossible standards, they take something from you. We subconsciously knew that if we underperformed, we would face severe punishment. So we simply pretended it never happened, for the sake of our sanity and innocence. Then it formed into denial, then it formed into.. why we died.