HAPPY

I need intensity. I need necessities of higher forms than you'd expect. I like these extremes that run my life. Extremities are only limited by the uneventful balance between indulging and depriving. I should stick myself in a foley room; edit myself to death. Penetrate my skin with objects able to, for each misdeed and misunderstanding, take "one" out for every objective accomplished thoughtfully.

:edit myself to death.


The sunny ball behind it's sheet of quilted storm, always smiling, is forcing itself through for the sake of optimism, a lazy strobe for the apathetic and melancholic, and hidden for the pessimistic.

This could very well be why I'm always slightly depressed and slightly prideful.
Addicted, addicted. Addicted addict.

Hey Hey now, I'm happy.

Have you ever been told to do something you didn't want to do, but when you did it it's exactly what you needed?

fuck it.

It's our human imaginations, options, and limitations to controlling the latter that make us adapt to what ever concept we are decided to be put in.

Who ever makes the greater argument.

Keep it to yourself. Put it out there.
We are doing it.
Keep it to yourself; stubborn.
Put it out there; insecure.
Always criticism.

So i write this out of criticism of my stubborn, insecure pride, depressed enough to be happy.

Happiness is fleeting, but joy can be permanent. you can be sad but joyful to be living. That may be sad, but that's the joyful truth.