"Why can't we just admit it?"
This time not the instinctive desire to destroy, but the fact that we were wrong. Why does our mind create B, C, D, etc. explanations instead of just accepting the most probable A version?
I screwed up. You screwed up. I don't know who it was, but someone screwed something up.
Today I was listening to Vicarious by the Tool all day long. A character was born, an idea for a new short story I have already started to write.
A little surreal, a little sick, a little depressing. No problem though, coz that's just how we are. Why can't we just admit it?
"Why, oh why?
'cause I need to watch things die
From a distance
Vicariously I, live while the whole world dies
You all need it too, don't lie
Why can't we just admit it?"
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