It's not that I want to die. It's that it has taken away all the purposes of living. I lay catatonic in bed wanting to sleep forever, sleep away everything. Go to work get a job you'll hate it eventually. Go to school get an education but what does that mean. Higher tax brackets and higher rises and what? Losing your steam. Wasting it, wasting your creativity, dismally, dreadfully, living while sleeping. Find love but is it love. Does that exist anyways? Is it just a lie thats been repeated for so long we have started to believe that whats real is the songs, movies, books, and tv? I'm not doubting it I'm only doubting me. Me and my perception of the world, my ideas on fulfilment, ideas on everything. I never thought going to war would take away so much beauty. So much love, so much of me. Is it the war though, or would I be the same either way. Would I have no hope for a world that is never going to catch up with itself. No matter what fiber optics come along, no matter how small a microchip gets. There will always be the haves, and the in-needs. There will always be traces in the past as we work our way through an overcrowded recent history. Events are nothing, the days entwine. Sweet memory tarnished from the chemicals I absorb and breathe. From the slaughter house blood mixed with the cattle feed. We are all twitters, twittering ourselves out of existence with every immemorable tweet. You can't take your top five anything into the black beyond. So stop telling the world things that no one cares about. When you write, write something real, be abrasive and mean. Otherwise you will go down as the fluffy pillow of the tainted American dream.