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Chaotic Symphony #1 in A minor
It's currently 1:52, AM. I should be sleeping. But here I sit, staring at a small computer screen, watching it grow smaller and smaller as I fade farther and farther into a kind of hypnotic trance, the best time for creativity. As I go through life, I am noticing that there is no black and white. Everything is of grey agonies, the undeterminable and undefinable shades of opinion and slants and vibes. Nothing is clean cut, and we are being lied to. I hate being lied to. I love lying, I hate being lied to. Hypocracy #1. Expect a lot, I'm only human. But in saying "Only Human", We excuse our actions, writing them off as human nature, apologizing that "we're only human, we can't be perfect all the time". So I'm not sorry, and I'm not "Only human." I'm human, but not "only human." I'm bound only by the limits of my creativity, which is vast and wide, an expansive ocean. Idea droplets evaporate and convect, rising to my constantly chaotic fevered brain. I'm tired, I'm empty, all is right within my bubble, because I, like everybody else, have a hard time caring about things that do not affect me, because I'm human, and it is human nature to rise up through the sufferings of others, to create from their destruction, to better acheive through their failure: to use them as a stepping stone when they fall, to keep your feet dry. I am happy, I am content, and am peaceful beyond belief. All is wrong in the world.
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