What was I talking about?

You know that feeling when you just curl up into the fetal position like a cosmic egg? When your lips are sealed and you're just letting out a sorrowful hum of helplessness? When it's because of a person, and you tell yourself you really can't live without them?

And then. One day, however unfortunate it may seem, it happens. And then another day, you're on the internet, or with your mom, or dad, or with someone, and in the air nearby, you hear "you won't just die because of a person."

You're told you won't. You're told to look at yourself being "all alive and shit."

It may have some truth to it. For the most part, yes, you are alive. Of course, your vital organs are still functioning, especially if you can read this. You're pretty much good to go, right?

But then this is where the lie comes in. I don't want to be the person who puts it out in a sentence and tells you that you were lied to when you were told you won't stop living if someone leaves. In fact, I'd rather be the person showing you the ray of hope. 

However, it is unfortunate just as much as it is shameful. You do die. You do stop living. You're not that person anymore. Hell, a certain Mr. Mathers is right when he says "You're never over," and God, yes, please, by all means, do always find a way and survive. But you've died. You've changed. You're not the same as you were before. It's not the same. You're waiting for a word or response, and in turn you're thinking "Hell, it's not like I've sent a word either." 

But you wonder. You question your move. Are you really even supposed to send that message? In seeking a reply just because the other person has to be nice to you? Nice enough to respond? 

And you wonder. Why exploit niceness?

And you question your move. Because they probably don't want to hear from you. 

...

People. Let's be worried about cars instead. 

What is up with the industry anyway? Making the same looking cars throughout a company.

Oh the Corolla looks like a miniature Camry. Oh, the 3-series has to be a baby 5. Oh, a 5 has to be a baby 7. I mean okay, you have a visual identity to follow, I understand that, and I am in accord with it. Lol. Get it? In accord.

Alright. Changing topics. Is a waste of time. 

Toodles.