CHUNK Sometimes you can rush past yourself, your actions, your emotions until you’re so fucked up, so jaded and compromised and dyslexic that you’re perfect. You realize that all of your self sacrifice and self loathing make you beautiful in such a strange and hilarious way, that you get violently pulled from your depression and angst. Is it a part of growing up, or is it me? Can this havoc be quelled or is it simply the nature of my disease? I’m not part of my cult or generation or labeled category so I have no solace. It’s all boiled away. There’s nothing left except water vapor. The only possible break the pain is you and the eventual formation of a symbiotic relationship. I show you that others feel this way and that your not the only one in this shit hole and you show me the same. Believe in something beyond Las Vegas because you deserve more than that.