I have been lost for so long in the haze of teenage angst that one might think that I don't even know how to function in society anymore. Surprise; I am still a functional human being with my petty human desires and minuscule human values and tedious human dreams of grandeur.
Sensory overload, but it feels incredible. I can see everything and I can hear all. Colours bloom intermittently and unceasingly and instantly. Music sounds and resounds at a speed with which no sound and all sound can be heard.
The internet is an incredible invention, one that has given people a new perspective of the world, but has also provided new methods for crime and injustice.
It feels so good to laugh, and it feels so terrible to have that laughter be silenced. The best part of laughing for hours (the aftermath) feels heavy like failure, but you know it's not, until it is.
No one is worried about the fork; they only think it's weird. They ask me about it and laugh. No one wonders about it, and that's why I have it. No one worries about the fork; after all, it's not a knife.
When I stood before you, whole and breathing and alive, you couldn't — wouldn't — see me. Now that I am gone, I forbid you from ever truly seeing me. You never looked, anyway.
It's as if my brain is too big for my skull. It's as if the very sounds themselves will cause my mind to break. Such is the power of words wrought of emotion, even if those words aren't meant for these ears to hear.