We are here, reluctant or not.
I think in all things, we all say we will stay away, for it is just too much. But, like humans will do, we don't stay away. We reluctantly figure it out.
We come here kicking and screaming because we've never been outside the womb before, but we figure it out.
We get tired of rolling and flopping and figure out how to crawl.
We get tired of scuttling around so we figure out how to walk.
Close your eyes and breathe, open your eyes and see that the world is dark.
You find something that makes you happy.
You are glad and sad, and you are doubtful. You pray, already knowing the answer, and when it comes it hurts. You may cry, you may sigh, you may sit around and deny, but it happened and you need to cope.
You remember people are dying, being slaughtered and martyred and pillaged and defiled, yet here you sit and cry over spilled milk.
You say it is unfair: why do I feel guilt for happiness that others cannot feel? If you gave a moment of silence for every sad story, you would starve before you got out of the a's.
You think and muffle, stifle thoughts and words because it is what you are told to do. You slip, tell everyone what you think, and of course they think you are positively addled. Such thoughts aren't sane.
Certainly. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I am just addled. Adolescent. Addlescent. "Addled" is Archaic for retarded, if you didn't know.
I wish hugs weren't so expensive. They are healing and nice, yet we must pay dearly for them. Some say we only have a certain number of heartbeats before our hearts stop. I tell you, there are three specific hugs in my time that must have cost me fifteen billion beats.
Good night, all.
My good grandma sad reacced this.