it's spring, and i have finally emerged from my cocoon. the world is a dreadful place, and people are terrible. i think i'd much rather perch at the top of the world and watch everyone go about hating each other than actually do it myself. there is nothing beautiful to be seen. there is nothing beautiful to be had.
love exists, but it is fleeting. nothing is permanent. people cannot understand permanence. what they describe is a length of time whose definite end they cannot predict at the present. no matter how much we avoid the thought, and no matter how much we dream otherwise, everything comes to an end. everything dies.
and it scares me the most that i can admit it.