Who are we really? Is there ever a way to know? Why we’re here, what we are to do—how will we know? If everything you knew was a lie…Who’s to say that he is not a girl, and she is not a guy? Who’s to say we all aren’t dead, instead of living?
Almost like what you see in the movies; the undead roaming the Earth, attacking any viable source of warm flesh, for food. It seems…cannibalistic, in a way. We could all be zombies…
Of course, if you feel the need, by all means, correct me if I’m wrong. These are merely the ramblings of a teenage girl. You can’t hate me for wondering.
Wondering doesn’t make it true, however. But one thing is certain: One day my life here will end.
Life is too short.
This is why I sometimes feel the need to escape from everything. Plenty have been ostracized simply for being who they are, a child at heart. I know of someone who would be the perfect example, but sadly, I cannot introduce him to you.
His time here has ended, and he has left us—up unto a place of never-ending joy.
Life is short—too short in fact; that I am unable to fulfill all my wishes.
…Or is that so?
Therefore, I act; I take to the stage.
As life moves far too quickly, so it is often easier to pretend.
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