Look at this bastard. Smiling, being bubbly and all. Little did he figure that I know something he never thought I’d find out. How could someone relentlessly hide under the smile of butter and honey with a decaying soul just underneath. You pass by your loving family, waving hello, glancing stares, only to make them think you are you. You are you in the way they knew. But you aren’t. You are that bastard who gets through the tunnel without going through. You’re a tiger on the move catching a prey but never getting one. You’re a smart ass, just not that wise. You’re full of thoughts, that you think beyond what you thought you didn’t know. And you make crappy decisions about it, getting crappy aftermaths, and you escape. Which makes you a crap in general. Which makes you real. Which makes you a human because humans are crappy. You just don’t run away from the voices inside your head, you talk to them. You’re too afraid for people to see you naked, warm to your soul. Damn, you talk to me like a kid receiving a star for being a good noodle at preschool. But who are you when you’re not pretending. I know you from the depth of only knowing that you’re sugarcoating but not to depth of knowing why you’re sugarcoating. And it would be a privilege for me to know. Not because I want to know you more, but because I want to embrace the human tendencies like a tiger on the move catching a prey but never getting one.