Dear ____,

Dear ____ ,

I don't quite know why I am doing this, but i guess spontaneous ideas are a hobby of mine. I think 'spontaneous' is the best way to describe this; spontaneous and short lived. But i just wanted to write, so take pity on me if you want, writing to a blank page.

But i am not pitying myself. There is no point. Why should i pity what I already am? After all, I cannot change me. I can try but at the end of the day, i am the same person, putting on a fake act for the only person who knows i am lying. Me. So why would i bother? 

A blank page is the best form of release i guess, a gateway to nothing but your thoughts, a gate I wish was not metaphorical. But i guess i am stuck with this. Not that i am complaining or anything... Its not like i have another option for freedom of speech, or writing in this case, or freedom at all for that matter.

It is strange how as humans we are taught to endure an endless routine, that if not followed will ultimately result in 'failure' and 'homelessness'; as if we all have a home we belong to, a little slot in society we all fit into to carry out our mundane lifes. The system:

birth. 

pre-school.

more school.

graduate.

university.

job.

kids.

death.

Maybe this is a depressing outlook on life, or maybe its realistic, or maybe a little too realistic. Who knows? 

Humanity seems to have forgotten that we are infact animals, not robots, and there are a few of us who don't give a shit about your 'system to success' and want to live our own damn lives. But of course for that to happen i would need to have access to the luxury of freedom and in a free world, there is no such thing. 

So i guess i am suck in history for now with a bunch of dead beats, who have the conbined IQ of a crushed stick, who have never had an original thought in the entirety of their existence and who have the likability of a shit that won't flush. I really fear for this generation.