It's like...love. Like, I want so much to be in love. My life mission is written in pink lipstick: love. I want to be....in love...so much...that throwing myself off a building, seems right. That rain is all I need, and you...I need you so much...my imaginary you. You see, life doesn't fit just in one category, and so neither does love.I breathe love...I taste it...And yet I can never hold it in my hand, like your hand, so soft and pure.Fuck, why can't I just be happy with what I have? And this whole thing is just a corporate scam; love, that is... And if this is all just made up, then what really, is the point of living? To hope for love and never find it? To shatter into a million pieces...I would rather taste the poison. Give me the gun. I don't want it anymore. I don't want to express this hollow world, anymore. I want love...I want you...and so like a spoiled child, if this is all for not, then allow me to say goodbye and tilt my hat with all good graces. I hope you'll understand, is what they all say. I say I don't need hope any more...if I can't seek from it love...I can't say I was ever sorry. You don't believe me, do you? Or, if you do, you will know that there is no cure to the realization of reality. Goodnight, or rather, goodbye. I can't say I will miss you, good old friend.