horrid post
we're all just disgusting fleshy protrusions.
--
Happy sentiments don't warrant posts. You begin with bliss--a child's world. It's not until adolescence that you become acquainted with more complicated forms of sorrow. That's when life becomes interesting and poignantly unfulfilling--the assertion of the poetic.
--
Meaninglessness tails my every move, idea, and interlude. Always. At work, with friends, while sleeping. Always. There's no penetration, no escape from truth.