Why am I me? and not the person across the street. Why do I have a life like mine, and yet others suffer so much compared to me? What is it like to be you, to feel like you, see like you, hear and think like you, why am I me and not you?

So many questions swarm my insides and my fleshy pink brain, eating away small chunks of spongy tissue, destroying peices of what makes me feel towards others. Do I write this because I want to have problems, to develope them and then complain about it? Maybe it is because I just want to talk, and people seem to only listen to the negative sides of humanity. Or do I do this to cope with my current dilemas. Maybe I need to find some sort of release for all of these storming emotions.... And that is all.

Now for some mental Gibberish: ( Its Fun! people should try it) ( the Mood thingy amuses me, its actualy not hot here, but freezing)

The moon is my calling to an oasis of gum stuck gears, where I can rest in silence of the churping cat, blooming fragrance of painted toes awaits me within the world of calling, thus is the satisfaction of happiness. The wind blows across an earlobe speaking of golden seasons locked up in a pink vault. to me it is a spiders tale of whimsical balloon, enchanted by the barking dog who sings of love. I am in love, through a prism it shines, reflecting on one person who is another shadow but is the mask of sincerity. why can it be i do not share my chocolate, for my chocolate is precious, and I am scared that it will be lost. Thus is a srawing on broken glass and blood smears on a highway.