Or maybe...just maybe this whole process is our training wheels towards something bigger. If we can reflect and know our lives, we might stay awake and shape our futures.

Your heart is my piñata.

We hear the ambient noise of children singing. We hear lions and tigers roar. Hyenas laugh. Some jungle bird or howler monkey declares its existence, screeching a maniac's gibberish. Our entire world, always doing battle against the silence and obscurity of death.

Our purest form of joy comes when people we envy get hurt. That most genuine form of joy.

Picture anybody growing up so stupid he didn't know that hope is just another phase you'll grow out of.

And if you can find any way out of our culture, then that's a trap too. Just wanting to get out of the trap reinforces the trap.

You tell yourself that noise is what defines silence. Without noise, silence would not be golden. Noise is the exception.