subject: counterfeit
time: 1:10pm
music: because of you
mood: shleepy bunny.

i am writing counterfeit love of deragatory images, prettily wrapped in manic skin. the quiet chaos claims me made of porcelein. no velvet wounds preside here, no saviour comes too fast, no speck of light or sanity. and my heart is formed of glass. all night we danced the dance and take the chance knowing it will kill us. bleed and bleeding in our romance while we sing the songs and we hum along. it thrills us as we question where do we belong? knowing that everything is an equation, or so it feels - calculated moves to gain an effect. desired results achieved by control. nothing ever falls into place because of fate and nothing ever really happens because of destiny. and though i may never understand it, this is true.

say that you're in control, say that you are; honestly, i can't think of a time when i looked less alive. no more burdened with lethargy, we sink deeper into self-imposed oblivion. life - so what. it goes on. it will end, someday, but the bottom line is life goes on. it will not wait patiently for the weak to catch up, it speeds past in a riot of colour, daring the strong to tame it.

depression is merely a shrinker's euphemism for genuine, inescapable human pain.