I'm finding less and less ways to describe the innocuous sensation that manifest in my meat bag mind whenever I look into the unrelenting depths of the city streets, of the crimson arched bridge, of the ethereal concreteness surrounding everything at everywhere. How limited are my intuitions. How incredibly flawed I have been since birth yet what I saw and felt those day looking out the second story window of the old catholic school classroom, those things where true. The size of my uselessness rivaled my desire, everyones desire to remain golden in our youth, exalted in (existential) immortality, survival without posterity, actualization without all the hired *******. A relic of tomorrow who felt safe in twilight-collective.