i know you and i are not longer alien to stories of what people do just to diffuse boredom; the thing that are more than just a pinch on their own forearms, or a slap on their own faces, just to know that they are still alive enough to feel...

some people jump from bridges with ropes on their feet, some on their necks. some drive their cars to 200kph just to feel the rush, and some never stop driving even if there is no longer any ground underneath their wheels. some chase after the bliss of that ephemeral smoke at the tip of tin foils, and end up being chased by the demons inside their heads. others simply get lost in the simple little chaos of everyday living, waking up one day in a strange little familiar place that feels altogether alien.

of course you and i, we pretend to be sane enough to know when to take and not to take risks. we know what parts are expendable, which portions we can momentarily live without; those tiny pieces that we use as pawns in exchange for something greater, something more profound, however fleeting, however destructive.

for instantaneous staccato bursts of color we exchange days and nights of gray skies, gray oceans of stunning monochromatic blandness, a familiar place that somehow feels alien as the days pass...

regretfully it eats through our sense of pretense and sanity, an addiction to something different, something that makes us feel worthy to be alive, worthy to be loved.

a mad scientist with a grand experiment slowly going out of control.