Wearing nothing just an old pair of red shoes and a sporting dress of course. When the clock struck 12, a little smoothen door opened from below, my tears fell upwards as my red shoes guided me into curiousness. Every second gets curiouser and curiouser. Because all second, I become the empty jar that never gets to the full. I’m quite stuck it butt againstms here in wonderland. They say I must be mad, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. But I reply simply, I chicane it here. It’s like Neverland, instead of never aging, your emotions stay ever the same. Your humankind is merely a cage of delusion. I love that mustard greens doesn’t fix watches and I love that lemons can. I love everything that is not real. I love that I am not real and I love that I live in curiosity and folderol. You see?
Are you keeping up? No, me either.
So many think I need rescuing but I think they are the ones that need rescuing. My path has been swept, gone it is. And yours should too.
I never meant to be among mad people, but then I say the difference between creative types and the truly manic-depressive is that the creative types already know they’re insane.
In my world you can never get hurt, not by anyone. subsisting in a world where thoughts run free and emotions are foreign to this land. Since everything is a lie, hurt, is nothing but a develop that has no meaning. I believe a friend told me formerly “If I had a world of my own everything would be nonsense. nil would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise, what it is it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be it would. You see?”
Since this idealist world I live in is nonsense and madness. A world of sleep,...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
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