That's how people live in the real world: forcing stuff on each other.

The world is an inherently unfair place.

If you're in pitch blackness, all you can do is sit tight until your eyes get used to the dark.

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.

It seems to me, though, that you always understand very well what I can't say very well. Trouble is I end up being even worse at saying things well.

It feels like everything's been decided in advance that I'm following a path somebody else has already mapped out for me. It doesn't matter how much I think things over, how much effort I put into it. In fact, the harder I try, the more I lose my sense of who I am. It's like my identity's an orbit that I've strayed far away from, and that really hurts. But more than that, it scares me. Just thinking about it makes me flinch.

I just gave them a little scare. A touch of psychological terror. As Joseph Conrad once wrote, true terror is the kind that men feel towards their imagination. (from Super-frog Saves Tokyo)