PIMTTS
Towers of ivory
Towers of marble
Towers of glass to see through and mock and jeer at the people outside
But people in glass houses shouldn't throw stone
Towers of privilege
That obscure all reason and logic
And contradiction
Because you shut yourself away a long time ago
Comedy is so subjective.
Some people think British people aren't funny, which is ridiculous. We just go about it in a less obvious way. It's hard to tell the difference between cynicism, self-deprecation and jokes that make you cringe...and experiences and words that genuinely hurt.
The spectrum of experience isn't like light. It isn't just limited to seven colors along with blackness and whiteness. It isn't even just limited to ultraviolet or infrared...
How shall I describe it to you?
The spectrum of experience is everything and anything that could ever be thought.
If there's any venture I'd rather not take it's the one to find a friend.
Because I know for sure that I'm stuck in my ways. When I'm not with the group of five or six gaggling girls I grew up with through this school, I use passive stares and mimicry to get by.
'It's simple really. A simple malady of the mind that can be tamed.'
'He's simple. He doesn't even know we're here'
'Detached. That's what he is. Detached.'
A simple problem needs a complex solution.
Life isn't like technology where you can just recover everything you've lost. In life, it takes more time and effort and tears for that. Some of it's fate, some of it's just blind luck and some of it is your own fault. But that's life.
That was all there was. A white picket fence. Except it was more of a light-ish grey now.
"You had one job. One. Job."
"It was Isabelle! She told me to-"
"You have no idea how serious this is, do you?"
She didn't like lying on the cold floorboards, prone and listless. She was about to do the unthinkable.
"Fuck off and come over here. Pick on someone your own size."
She choked down the bile and blood she was holding in and tasted the tangible silence.
'I wouldn't be surprised if there's nothing of substance in that tiny little brain of yours.'
What am I doing? I've put my mouth on autopilot. I'm gazing through my eyes and I see her soul shattering one by one through those eyes. And you know what? I don't give a fuck anymore. You hear that? See if I care.
'You must be mighty proud, having a son like that. To do what he did... shoot, I couldn't do that. Nobody could but him. Shoot...'
I decided to bite my tongue and not let anyone else know I was listening.
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