I won’t spend a dime but I’ll give you my time because my generation is crying from repeated episodes of all our dreams dying.

If I like something, I’ll probably binge. Then quietly miss all the warning signs of my reality falling off the cliff on which it hinge.

Tell me what happened to your grace? We’re all running this rat race but what is the pace? And where exactly is this place we’re heading to? Some seem to think it’s in the nothingness of space.

This is a story of a young human type trying to survive in a world of hype. Like what does it all mean to me? And is it worth me being mean to me? Don’t even get me asking who is me.

I guess the secret lies in picking your poison. You know, your position and happily suffering its side effects. Loving the consequence and repeating the sequence while hiding the secrets in order to make it all feel like a living.

I’d like to convince myself that it will all make sense one day and I’ll humbly sit proud of the lessons and deliver on my passion. Teachers speak of patience, I think we are all patients sickened by this life and it’s tensions. I never meant to hate, but we always find ourselves in some debate and somehow see reason to elaborate and defend our wounds, only digging them deeper, making the roads stealer.

Look and you won’t see but there is the grim reaper. Time is ticking while you’re politicking. It’s funny, it’s tickling, but we’re not laughing – it’s only panic!

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