We all begin, we all end. It all vanishes with a single point of the imagination, an arbitrary word terminating all that we have hoped for. All of the ballads in the world can't save us from it. Whatever it is. The most natural place in the world, so lonely, so benign, in front of a glaring screen with keys tickling fingertips that have been lost for so long. Don't know what to press, how to sustain those emotions everyone longs for, the feeling of euphoria or complete mania to which we succumb when lazy afternoons progress into an ambiguous and misshapen cloud of denial, or self-destruction, darkness compressing on my lungs. Hypoxic.

The same tune weaving its way over and over to all the hidden places, panic attacks desguised as nothing at all. I wish I could write a symphony or some hyper-critical analysis that would explain the world. Anomalies. The most hated word in science. Chemical imbalances lead to self-determinism, bravery. Now that our frontal lobe can explain why we are who we are. There's no need for environmental experimentation, since we grow regardless of our environment, right? So we are who we are. Bullshit. Bullshit. So we sit in hospital waiting rooms, drinking water diltued in caffeine, adrenaline shooting out of our ears and our autonomic nervous system tells us to breathe in the most insubstantial way. It doesn't matter. Somehow we can control our assholes and not our hearts. That's what the books say. That's what learned behaviour means. And then, we are in control over our addictions, right? Like masochism. Killing yourself over and over again just to see what will happen. I suppose Skinner had some loopholes in his hypothesis. Addictions. What about the one's that aren't chemically induced? What about those that are a direct result of your fuck-ups, your misbehaviours or dissent from childhood. What about those subservient fucked-up behaviours that have no cause or effect, neither rhyme nor reason, no explanation. Those that just are what they are, just as you are what you are. Can people really change? 

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And the news reports on the radio

Said it was getting worse

As the ocean air fanned the flames

But I couldn't think

Of anywhere I would of rather been

To watch it all burn away

To burn away