starts as a subtext

This is indirect response to the last, folks. As if I couldn't have left a comment like this, and it wouldn't have seemed like wasted time. Okay. It probably was. Either way.

You lead a perplexly absurd and inane existence. You ought to consider that at some point.

...

Sometimes, I like hitting you. And I like to act as if we're breaking. Or I like pretending that you aren't really talking. I like pretending like I hate you.

It's next-near as fun as your far-fetched reality is at occasions when you realize that even in a sunflower-yellow button-down shirt with your ugly chest showing through, sniffing talcom powder because you don't have shit-for-brains enough to snort Coca-Cola or tea instead -- realize that there, right there, you feel like you've got something.

Congratulations. Maybe you could teach someone else instead of jumping around your room with a photographic device, pretenind like you're living a fine life.

Or, you could just stop pretending for that matter.

I think we've gone and lost the fire. But I don't want to fight anymore.
I'm tired of this town...

-RK