vie misérable

Vous sentez-vous déjà enfoui au plus profond
Six pieds sous cri
Mais personne ne semble entendre une chose?

(Feu d'artifice, Katy Perry)

Merci beaucop, Google Translate.

Inflation to the point of explosion

I've been told twice that I resembled:

As always, for the sake of quasi-modesty, I respond in the form of self-mockery or pity for Kelly Misa. Oh, but the obnoxious self-glorifying crazy dance that happens in the deepest recesses of my poker face-covered skull is far from being modest. Tell me, who doesn't want to look like a model? Huh? Huh?

Looking at the other possible extreme...Kelly Misa being told that she resembled this random Anna...she'd probably tell herself, "I need to go under the knife."



I did it again.
Self-deprecation.
Just because I'm used to it.
Although deep inside, I really want to BELIEVE it.
I guess I don't.
Maybe these people wanted something from me.
My naivete. My excuse.

time to zoom out

Aside from power, the self is also overrated.

pow-wow bow-wow

pardon et moi, mon ami

I was just following orders from over yonder.
On the fork, took the path of great resistance.
It is the hardest yet the shortest.
The straightest path towards self-awareness.
Utopia; like infinity; like undefined; almost imaginary.