What If Reality Is Nothing But Some

If You Start In The Pit Of Despair With These Profane, Awful Things, Even A Glimmer Of Hope Or Awareness Is Going To Occur That's Much Brighter Coming From This Dark, Awful Beginning.

As If You Cut Open A Rag Doll With A Sill Name, And Found Inside:real Intestines, Real Lungs, A Beating Heart And Blood. A Lot Of Hot, Sticky Blood.

We Want You, Not Your Money. As Long As You're At Fight Club, You're Not How Much Money You've Got In The Bank. You're Not Your Job. You're Not Your Family, And You're Not Who You Tell Yourself. You're Not Your Name. You're Not Your Problems. You're Not Your Age. You Are Not Your Hopes. You Will Not Be Saved. We Are All Going To Die, Someday.

I've Been Choking To Death For Years. By Now This Should Be Easy.

You Are Not Special. You Are Not A Beautiful Or Unique Snowflake. You're The Same Decaying Organic Matter As Everything Else.