No matter what people say, I don’t suppose I’ll ever want to re-live my teenage years. To prove my point (as if anyone cared), here’s an example of how I felt those days. Keep in mind that this is one of the optimistic, and only occasionally self-pitiful, extracts.

They’ve locked you in a windowless room. Today there is no you, there is no me. Free association challenging eternity. Smile to the lens of oblivion. The sun sets, and the ship will never come to take us away. I love the electric moments when tears freeze behind trembling eyelids, and the picture darkens.

Paranoia hiding at the edge of consciousness. I’ve come to believe that it is myself I fear the most, my reflection in the mirror, a face to face confrontation. What am I hiding behind all these veils of denial and apathy? Some strength, and weakness in immeasurable quantities. They must not find out, they must never know.

Why do we search for meanings and absolute values? Listen to the waves in the middle of the city, the dragons have fallen asleep in their ruined palaces. I have nothing to say, nothing remotely interesting; it was pure sorrow bringing my thoughts to life, all along. But if my words sound sad, is my sadness real? Perhaps it is nothing more than an arbitrary figure I conjured one night, when loneliness had become intolerable.

Do not lose heart; life itself brings down the solemn statues of time. Again and again we shall float to where the light its born. Words are symbols, symbols are dead ideas, and why did we let our dreams suffocate on the moon's darkest side? Do you believe that someday our nonsense will lead us to what we’re longing for?
Or have we destroyed that, too, by carelessly carving our stories on its delicate foundations?