| >> | No.37189388 ![[DELETED]](/media/deleted.png "This post was deleted before its lifetime has expired")
We can only relate to one another through cliched, pre-prescribed phrases. Offering ourselves as a catalyst for something more transcendent. Why do we seek each other out, even though we’re really afraid of announcing our intentions. Everything is masked under this veneer of political correctness. We go out and dance in clubs and drink excessive amounts of alcohol, only to feel better about the masks we wear when we’re at work or on the street or in a restaurant or at the beach or alone in our rooms at night, and we try to cry, but we’re too fucked up and we’ve even forgotten how to cry. How do we forget how to fucking cry? And that’s why we’re lonely and afraid and isolated in this heart-wrenching solitude, because we’re forgetting what it means to be human, and what it means to be in love, or even how to contemplate the concept or the idea of loving someone outside of ourselves. Do we even love ourselves anymore? I don’t think we can take it, and it’s showing and popping up everywhere we set up shop on this world hurtling through the darkness and the void. The void is an outstretched hand and our reluctance to grasp it, or maybe, our inability to, is eating us up, like termites scarfing down the once-living limb of a tree. The fungus is growing on our hands and inching its way up our arms and, oh God, we can’t stop it, and we’re rotting alive, my fucking God, I’m rotting alive.
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