To start -- being an adolescent with autumn eyes, seeking a prophecy for long-standing bravery to further the spinning spokes for minutes, five more,
I burned the drapes to reveal a humanity only I could see.
The expectations were elaborately existing, unsatisfying. Sons and fathers, years refrained from matters that reverse reverse reverse curses and maturity without purpose.
Those idle accepted neglect, and the existence of an unsalted bridge was quickly detained. Alone, the foolish described to search for the future in geometric formation and coffee ring stains fading the desk.
But the sense proposed in my decided equality drank dignity straight from the bottle. The road that lead me between two cliffs, Propriety and Statistics, with the rocks already pelting down, could not diminish my enthusiasm for necessary absurdities.
There's no flesh in declared mediocrities.
I became a luminary for pleasures of eminence, hope with resolve, opportunities in destiny. Blind gambles obliged the fear of exacting sensibility. Passionate follies created no-regret-consequences, satisfied stability. Only the **** are granted victories in eternal gaiety.
Mortality is irrelevant if you let mystery be your urgency.