terça-feira, 6 de dezembro de 2011

Critical Theory

Flawless is the word with most flaws in this world. Everyone and everything has flaws, sometimes they may be hidden, but they're always there, just look deeply inside or, if it's too obvious, even a blindfolded prick would see those flaws.
Would people like each other if one were fat? Would that ugly boy or girl be liked by youth in general? What if the adults turned into the youth of today and the old people reversed to little babies? I bet that wouldn't be right at all, would it? Maybe not, maybe it would be...who knows? I certainly do not know. I'm nothing better or worse than the average. But there's a difference, I like my life, I enjoy it, I value it, most people don't. That 'most' is the translation for "pathetic fucking people on Earth". The Sun's solitude is huge and dark, even though you see brightness, it will, eventually, end one day. Why does it look like I don't really care about the people in general, about the world, about the madness, about the war, anymore? If I live one day by those contrasts and painful paintings, I wouldn't even survive 24 hours. My heart would start freezing, my brain cells would kill each other, my body shaking, my hands writing with the pen that combines life and death, misery and fortune, happiness and sadness. All shall stop within the righteous timeline and think for one second. If you do something unconscious and outrageous today, you may not be living the next day, you can be just as good as dead...or maybe you'll be rich along with a lovely life.
Now you wonder why am I writing in English when I'm Portuguese? Talvez porque assim o desejo, talvez porque apenas me apetece, talvez porque ninguém tem nada a ver com o que eu faço ou quero fazer. E o que eu quero, é estar contigo meu amor.
When so-called mature and intelligent people are actually living their supposed life, I shall know and answer all of the sudden social questions. Until then, do whatever you morons feel like doing, or maybe don't feel at all, but just leave me and the ones I love out of it. I don't wanna be diagnosed with psychosis because I hunted people in their dreams and nightmares with a knife on my right hand to cut their throat and feel their blood as it flushes to the floor, and all of this because people are so incredibly crazy, they can't even imagine.
Isto é a minha crítica social, e agora, estarei eu louco ao revelar toda a teoria?

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