Post by Nessy on May 8, 2006 11:51:00 GMT 12
I bear a secret that no-one knows. That is why it's called a secret. Yes, a secret it is. It's a secret about me. But, trully, would you be interested in it? No, of course not. I have no bonds with you. I have no bonds at all. I'm not sad about it, though. I don't feel empty, or any of that angst crap. Should I tell you who I am?
No. I'm not telling you.
You're not guessing either. But that's okay. I don't mind.
Did you know we're all alone here? New Pork is an empty trash can. Yes, a trash can. And we're nothing but garbage tucked in this forsaken land. In this land, we forget who we were and surrender to our most primary nature. Violence. Bloodlust. Desire. Fear.
People call others crazy because they are envious of their ways of ignoring this excuse to surrender to our basic instincts. I know. I know.
Did I tell you I bear a secret?
I did? Oh, forgive me.
I bear a secret. You're not going to know who I am. You're going to forget about this crimpled paper I threw away and let it fly away on this dirty wind, on this cold day you are reading it. It's always cold here. Cold, cold so that your heart freezes and forgets. Forgets who you were. Makes you new, makes you dark, makes you... different. And makes you so lost in yourself. Not in the way you are to mesmer, but in the way you don't remember and you don't want to. Did you know, you use this as an excuse to surrender to the darkness we all bear?
Sometimes people are called crazy, insane. Sometimes people are ignored and taken as annoying because they speak the truth and everyone's doubts.
We feel alive here, in this fake freedom that this basic instict gives us. But we're not free nor alive. We're trapped inside the darkness, and dead to others. The only chance of surviving is making up excuses to play this sick, sick game.
But did you know?
I bear a secret.
I am dying.
No. I'm not telling you.
You're not guessing either. But that's okay. I don't mind.
Did you know we're all alone here? New Pork is an empty trash can. Yes, a trash can. And we're nothing but garbage tucked in this forsaken land. In this land, we forget who we were and surrender to our most primary nature. Violence. Bloodlust. Desire. Fear.
People call others crazy because they are envious of their ways of ignoring this excuse to surrender to our basic instincts. I know. I know.
Did I tell you I bear a secret?
I did? Oh, forgive me.
I bear a secret. You're not going to know who I am. You're going to forget about this crimpled paper I threw away and let it fly away on this dirty wind, on this cold day you are reading it. It's always cold here. Cold, cold so that your heart freezes and forgets. Forgets who you were. Makes you new, makes you dark, makes you... different. And makes you so lost in yourself. Not in the way you are to mesmer, but in the way you don't remember and you don't want to. Did you know, you use this as an excuse to surrender to the darkness we all bear?
Sometimes people are called crazy, insane. Sometimes people are ignored and taken as annoying because they speak the truth and everyone's doubts.
We feel alive here, in this fake freedom that this basic instict gives us. But we're not free nor alive. We're trapped inside the darkness, and dead to others. The only chance of surviving is making up excuses to play this sick, sick game.
But did you know?
I bear a secret.
I am dying.
