Dear, Tedious
A dead end is not dead, nor is it an end. It is usually alive, dripping with the fruition of a new beginning. Isn’t a birth a death within itself? Now, I know what you’re thinking. You foolishly think this random blog post is an open door, which leads directly into the depths of my psyche. As though after reading this post, you own the true foundation of what it means to understanding myself and the rest of my kind. A follower will never have the capacity to understand an individual. You and the rest of the promulgated sheeple think the same fucking thing, time and time again. Your rudimentary thoughts and ideals are laughable. I’m not laughing. I understand your desire to be the top peck in the pecking order. You know it’s all nonsense; right? Of course you do. I mean, you wouldn’t be reading this post if you didn’t. I know you’re smarter than the rest of them; the other sheeple you blindly follow. Your intellect knows no bounds, other than the bounds of your short-sided, closed-mindedness. I understand your desire to connect and to belong. I also understand that death could be a viable option for you, perhaps it is an activity or at least a hobby you should look into. Perhaps your mirror has been lying to you this entire time, or the truth is far too lethal for you to face alone. Either way, you’re fucked.
P.S.
Get a new mirror and stop looking at me.
Good Night.
G.G. Kalfas 