Any one of us could die tomorrow without being able to do with our lives what we wish to. No one should plan decades ahead when you can't count on being alive.

Maybe there's a little bit of filth inside all of us. Tediously hidden my morals and supposed conscience.

Some call the process of living conforming, I call it adaption.

It's kind of amazing really, how my own words do such a good job of destroying me.

It's SO hard to know that you're nothing to your everything...