Like you, I am a manifestation of various strings of thoughts, strung together in a similar manner as a rope would be. I would not have believed in you, had you not spoken a word. Your face is as controlling as it sees fit, or at least, as much as I let it be. Something in the white... maybe its the paint. Its kind of funny how a supernatural encounter can leave one even more empty than before, spiritually. Make that rope knotted. Busy, I make the perfect social robot. Id leave if I didnt know that the outcome to closing this textbook would be even less desireable than its prelude. Motionless physical life feels so moving. When all is said and done, I am a product, a synthesized (but cloudy in reflection) representation of the people I choose to strive to not be. I am shallow and selfish. The wall of trapped, caged, tortured souls, the void, the chemical undead all stirr more emotion in me than the said beauty of life. What is real to me is not real to the consciously-tuned. I am a radio, with the dial stuck in static between the stations. I am not letting the uncontrollable control my life in any way, shape, or form.. from this day forward. Not a substance, not a human being, not a spiritual vulnerability. Not the past, not the future. I will live. I will breathe, I will work, I will love. I will not hate, I will not live in regret. I will live. I will breathe, I will work, I will love. I will not live in regret, and I will not hate. hold me to it.