You sit down, and the whole world spins around you.
it doesn't matter who the fuck you are, this world is just a fucked reality that doesn't really matter.
Go smash some speed bumps, rob a bank, slap a stranger, get killed. At least you had fun doing it.

Make truth believing that negatives can change into the positivity by creating the perfect and most beautiful chaos.

Illegal means nothing if nobody knows, but what does it matter if it is unseen? Do you do it for the fame? or for your own silent ego? You may go about leaving footprints for others to pick up on. Trace by trace you turn into a new breed of individual.

In the end, when the world is over, all that matters is what you, yourself, ever held onto. Whether it was a thought, a feeling, a time, as intricate as just a fragment of a soul rather than a whole of a friend, a loved one. In the time being, I wait for another to find the truth and save me from being alone. But waiting is like being dead, it has the possibility of being infinite.