When the world ends, all that remains is your suicide note.
Sometimes we have talked about your death. I guess, you had to die. Fundamentally, you were always the Ouroboros. The extent you have devoured yourself forces you to choke on yourself, in spit, gunfire, overdoses and die repeating 'I love you, I love you.'
On a brighter note, at least you don't have to live to see High School Musical.
Bro, I tell you, it's real bad. The day that High School Musical 3 came out, rockers with balls and integrity became gods as they just went ahead and off themselves. And what remained are the rest of us pussies. I lived my life, closing my eyes and hasten my footsteps each time I crossed cinemas, record stores, reflecting ponds and young people.
Everyone are ready to dance. They snap their fingers and they are ready, always. Where were the few good men when such abomination was allowed to rise?
If only I was gutsy.
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