....a perfect paper airplane.

But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.

Death Is only the easy way out if you are the one who dies.

Or might the soul clone itself, create a perfect imitation of something yet to be defined? In this way, can a reflection be altered?

Funny how when your life is mostly bullshit, you turn off feeling. Sometimes it's hard to turn it back on again.

Taking no chances means wasting your dreams.

Happiness is a bull's-eye, awaiting arrows of pain.