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Airplanes. Life. Everything.

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Posted July 26th 2010 at 07:50 PM by LlamaLlamaDuck




“And the colours of these roads are matching the rainy sky, we’re too blind to see what’s really here in front of our eyes. And I hope someday, this will all reverse, and send us back to the times before. Before we grew up and lost the novelty of clear blue skies and climbing trees, can’t you see what our lies have come to be?”

Things are so much more complicated now. The most important things aren’t about being first in line, deciding who sides with who in an argument and making sure your room is tidy enough for your parents to let friends come round. It’s a dangerous game now. A fight to stay alive. Balanced on the brink of a knife edge, it can take so little to fall in either direction.
Compliment or insult.
Acceptance or judgement.
Friends or enemies.
Love or hate.
Support or abandonment.
It’s a circle. The smallest ray of light from one person that softens the armour can easily be undone by a mere glance, word, or action which hardens the armour to twice as it was before. It’s so much more complicated than anyone can comprehend. A twisted dance of fate. Cruel spirals of love and hate intertwined to form a being. Light and dark. Good and evil. Fantasy and reality. Life and death. But do we decide which way it goes, or is that decided for us? Are we truly in control of who we are or is a fear of sociological rejection forcing us into the category we are most likely to be accepted in? Even those who claim not to care what people think have secrets from the world. Things that only they will ever know. Because others knowing could destroy everything they have worked so hard to create. The reflection. The fantasy. The lie built to mask the truth. Life isn’t a carefree time where we climb trees, fall and scrape our knees only to get back up and keep running. It’s so much darker. It’s a fight to stay alive. To keep the lie going. To stay hidden and let our other selves live for us. The question is: Why are we all dying to live, when we live to die? Why fight so hard in a futile battle? And why, if this is the only life we have, if we’re all going to die anyway, do we have to hide and keep up a perfect artificial image? Why, in the only chance we have to be ourselves do we hide away and shield ourselves from the evil and hatred, good and love of the world? I’ll leave that one to you.
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