Dead-Livingness

I wish you were all the vague ideas of water-y emotional rawness that I crave. I wish you would let me comfort you as you comfort me. But boys aren't supposed to be comforted are they? And the girls they let comfort them, are just stepping stones, right? Why, though? I want to be there for you, I don't want to be your mother or anything, just there. That's the most loving thing a person can do. Let me in.

I don't care about the way things seem. I don't care about outside assumptions and jumped-to conclusions. All I care about are what things really are.

I am sick of being surrounded by people who are completely uninspired, dry, dead, disengaged, disillusioned, ignorant and uninterested. Because I'm inspired, I'm wet, I'm interested, I'm well-informed, I'm enchanted and I'm fucking intrigued. I'm a spark of light in the dark. I'm the light at the end of my own tunnel. But everything wouldn't have to be so fucking dark if people would just be a little more thoughtful and care a little more.

Ignorance, the hatred of knowledge, is true evil.

I want to do something valid, but everything is invalid in a world of dead-livingness.