[*beams*]

Dewd.
You are a stooge for the media priests.
You suck.
Apart from you.
And you.
And maybe you.
But I really do hate you.
But Malavika.
I love you.
Because you're my way uberly
Hawt
Lesbian lover.
Ttfn!

In a perfect world,
Everybody would be free,
Everybody would be equal.
In a perfect world,
Nobody would hurt,
Nobody would starve.
In a perfect world…
I could fly.

In the real world,
Nobody is free,
Nobody is equal.
In the real world,
Everybody hurts,
Everybody starves.
In the real world…
Nobody can fly.

We all have chains that hold us down,
Serrated knives that claw at our wings,
Skeletal fingers grasping for our height.
Only the birds can fly.

I see the most stunning sunset. It is beautiful, and perfect, and whole. The clouds, cirrus, and cumulus, are tinted with pink, and red, and orange. The red-blue light floods the sky, and gently touches the face of each house, tree or person it meets. Each cloud speaks with its own voice, its own personality, and the sky softly pulsates with power and beauty. It’s as if this night should never end, as if the sunset should last forever, and the world should glow with its warmth. Hurt would be healed, scars would fade, and all memory of pain would flicker and die. It would be as if the world had been washed clean, cleared of all evil, purged of all suffering. But all great things must come to an end, and even as I write this, the sunset pales to a shining blue, still beautiful, but shadowy, as if the darkness was gradually coming back, as if the sunset was the bridge between the light and the dark. Yet still the sky is tinged with red, and orange, and pink, and still my heart glows, because I know that tomorrow, another sunset, more beautiful and unique than this one, will arrive, and the pain will fade away once more.