index | archives | notes Monday, May. 16, 2005 5:09 p.m. << [ Mohawks and Diamond Earrings ] >> The problem with believing that no one is ever a bad person is that no one is ever a bad person. I am forgiving, I am the Angel of Mercy incarnate. It's none of my business, but I am dying to know, dying to talk shit so I can turn around and embrace. I know everything because I am the personal psychologist, and I love having knowledge but hate obtaining it. Walking on eggshells that crack and dig into my flesh, vicious, malicious. Glass feels. "Why does everybody hate me?" and I tell her she's not allowed to die; it's a ground rule, it's like Lemmings. The objective of the game is to keep the lemmings from walking off a cliff or burning to death or breaking their hearts. I am building bridges between them, trying to salvage relationships. I am the game master, always thinking of myself in terms of the passive observer; power to save the world, but I believe in free will. I'm running, but I don't know what from. Save the world on an individual basis first, and then we can worry about the big picture. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org