dynomite.

Whoever invention 'emotions' was a fool.
Furthermore, whoever investigates 'emotions' is even the greater fool.
I have resolved to be a master at quick transition and later massacre - but that hasn't stopped me from jesting, I tell you this as if I have anything else better to do with my time.

I once had the feeling that someone was following me, that 'someone' turned out to be my shadow - and it was telling me to slow down, for it had been tired for some time.

Whatever happens, when 'emotions' get the best of me, is nothing I fancy admitting to -
it's unforgivable and lacking in definition, but persistant; and I would concur that that is the reason for its weary attraction upon me. Subject upon subject solicits a turmoil, and even though I resolve to find a way to overcome these panic attacks of spite and harsh realities, resolution has come farthest beyond last priority. How is that? Something I want so much, need so much, is the one thing I will never come close to having.