Birds and words and other floating things, I cannot tell you how long I've had the same headache. I'm trying to keep the good vibrations flowing, but that's not my job. The job of adult bookstores and maybe something like harmony keep me reminded that I have no control over how things feel. There's nothing for me to offer you except my empathy, and only for so long before I don't know how to have a conversation anymore. If my dreams came true, I'd still be at work saying and doing the same things. Don't you see? Where do I see myself in five years is under a bridge stacking rocks next to my friend Pierre the troll. There's something crooked about my mind; it's not violence or hate, but a complete overdose on everything from consumable goods to magical feelings. There's nothing left to believe in when you've absorbed all resources. Give me a break. Breaking is the easy part. Healing is hard. Where am I now is a more important question. Last night's meditations led me to hearing voices of people I don't know and when I woke up I was five pounds lighter. Where is the fine line? What does insanity resemble? Can't we all just... get along?