Right?
And as 你 enter life does everyone place their bets on if 你 will succeed 或者 fail? As 你 age, through those terrible fucking years 你 go through, everyone seems to have a 刀 at your throat waiting for 你 to mess up so they can apply 更多 pressure to the blade? So they can wait 'till 你 mess up again and dig it deeper, and slowly through all your mistakes 你 make, all the small mistakes 你 make, the people holding the 刀 to your throat get the chance to slit it. And drop the weakest link, because once 你 mess up, since everyone thought 你 were perfect and expected 你 to excel in every fucking piece of shit 你 do, there is no need for you.
Right?
It seems like the whole world, seven fucking billion people on this small dying planet, is holding their breath watching as 你 walk the tightrope of life. even you.
But what about the six billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, and nine hundred and ninety-nine other people? Are they all on tightropes, too? And if they are, those blasted bastards, do they have the support and cords that 你 aren't aloud to have? Because 你 have no imperfections, that's why 你 aren't aloud. And when 你 open your mouth to scream for help, because you're almost falling, they sew it up to keep it shut. No complaints must come from the world's perfect kid.
Right?
So along 你 travel, maturing and aging, but those fucking people, that had a 刀 to your throat, now add one to your back. 你 gain some 老友记 but they are those people, and as your trust for them grows the blade is slowly digging into your skin, 你 can feel it too. But as the fucking good little angel 你 are, 你 keep your head high, and be a trooper though the tears burn scars into your heart. The trust that once was a lively flame is put out 由 treason, and is now nothing but a ember glowing in the ash. 你 keep walking though, 'cause there is always light at the end of the tunnel, someone waiting for 你 to stoke the little ember, care for it and add a little love, that will set it ablaze.
Right?
But what if that special one doesn't come? What do 你 do? 你 then grow up believing 你 were never good enough for anyone; anything. How could anyone 爱情 a freak like you? Someone that doesn't know how to fight and just takes the shit that is thrown at them? But 你 were raised that way? 你 were always taught to be loving and compassionate, and because every time 你 did stand your ground and fight back the knives would cut 你 down till 你 were nothing.
Right?
So here 你 are at the guillotine, there is no need for you. 你 stood up for yourself, and people that do that can only have one fate: Have everyone against them and face their extermination. The breath of the everyone is let out in one exhale, all the money placed on the 表 for 你 failing is awarded to the betters, and 你 are going to fall like the rest of the freaks that don't fit in.
Right?
Wrong.
你 back away, and dive off the tightrope. Who wants to live a life like everyone else, when 你 can live free. Who gives a fuck if everyone around 你 spits in disgust, you're you.
So even if 你 don't feel needed, even if 你 aren't brand new, even if 你 aren't the shiniest, 或者 the strongest, the thickest, 或者 the coolest. 你 are still 你 and even if 你 are the weakest link, 你 sit in the middle of the connection, and the chain you're on will break apart without you.
Right?
Right.
((Just feeling bad about myself today and felt like 写作 it out... I don't care if this get one view 或者 none.. it just felt goof to get it out.))
Trystan's civvies~
