Maybe You Should Drive.

Who do you carry that torch for, my young man?
Do you believe in anything?
Do you carry it around just to burn things to the ground?

What is justice, or morality for that matter? I’m not satisfied thinking that there is no universal answers, or that it’s up to the individual to make their own weight on the matter. What is worth fighting for, and is it just to fight for it?

Are we treacherous hearts?

Are we destined for the hedgehog’s dilemma, only to hurt the ones we get close to?

How to porcupines have sex anyway?

Is this world only as thick as our vision, or is there something more? Would I be crazy to try to trust a second layer?

Shut up.

No.

Please.

And in the choir I saw a sad messiah,
He was bored and tired of my laments,
'said “I died for you one time, but never again.”
Never again…

What is in a name?
What if the devil is the good guy?

Someone asked me if I were he, and I would encourage the sins of humanity, would I punish those that abided. Would the devil do that, if he encourages the behaviour? What if he’s the right one, or even that there is no wrong one? Punishing someone for doing what you ask…

Lucifer is bearer of light. Christopher is the bearer of Christ. Christ and Light are hand-in-hand.

Do I lean to the extremes then, or sit in the middle?

Why does my heart shut up when I need it to speak?

Mittens gets smarter than I want him to.

There’s two more that I need names for.

I wish Skittles and Chris said more things.

I’ve found where in the brain they’re located. Wikipedia’s not as unreliable as people tell me it is. It bothers me when I’m invalidated simply because I got my information from looking at it.

What’s an opinion mean anyway? Why do we always need one?

What if I can’t find God, even if I were to brave looking?

They say you need pray if you want to go to heaven,
But they never tell you what to say when your whole life has gone to hell.

I want to believe humanity is better than this. Better than politics and companies. Something more than human. Something humane. I want to believe in the goodness of people’s hearts.

I just want to believe,
I just want to believe, in us.

Can we do that though? Are we strong enough?

This is the weight of my conscience.
This is an all-time low.

Is there still a place left on earth to live where you cannot be found?

Is there a reason that art satisfies more than process and rationality, yet isn’t considered very valid?

What does validity refer to? Why can 800 psychologists throw their theories out, be correct, and never once be right?

…Needing someone is useless. Do we need them for wants, or want them for needs? It looks like people just want to use.

Like tools.

Like pawns and pick-up sticks.

Like parking validations.

Yes, I was here. Thank-you.

This is a matter of life and death,
But I deal with things like this everyday.

Why do I always feel so cold? Is it because I remember being warm? Why can’t I tap into that passion at will?

Is this another phase, or more?

I’m bothered by the question marks.


Could I step off the edge and never worry about the fall?

I don’t want to go on MSN or have my phone on me all the time. I keep looking at it, thinking I need it, because someone might need me, but at heart, I don’t want to be that connected.

It’s very comfy underneath my coffee table. I’m not there anymore. But I wrote most of this there.

I have not written in over a month.

I have not drawn in almost a year.

Photoshop’d in 4 months.

Played a game passionately since Fallout 3.

Looked for stars since November.

Laughed without Mittens cringing for a while.

Questioned.

Wondered.

Thought.

Lived.

I exist. But everything exists.

I know you’re coming for the people like me.

Have I been like this for months and not noticed?

Mittens thinks so.

Skittles thinks this is just a bad outlook.

And that I need chocolate.

I’ve wanted to be in space more in the last week than in my whole life. I don’t know why.

Someone else should be driving my car. I’m pretty inebriated.

My head hurts. I’m only thinking in lyrics.

This is war… Every line is about…

I wouldn’t mind being a Gundam, if a Gundam was more than just a show or a weapon.

I am a tool, because I get used, and I don’t know if I mind.

Where did the sunshine and rainbows go? I had them.

You could lie on your back and be beaten.
You could put up your fists and fight.
You could try anyway.

What’s more, why is this such a simplex answer, to what feels like a complicated question, when I’m sure the answer’s complex and the question is simple.

I promised myself I would post this. I almost backed down.

…Who do I carry the torch for? Do I believe in anything? Or am I just trying to burn things to the ground.