You built the walls that block your way.

You say I chose sadness, that it never once has chosen me. Maybe you're right.

Some people seem to choose to be miserable. Some small issue, something that will hardly matter in the grand scheme of things, becomes The Bane of Their Existence, and they allow it to completely consume their lives.

You built the walls.

I've discovered that I'm terrible about making assumptions. By that I mean that I make them constantly. This is my own form of depressant, I think. I don't choose misery, per se. I choose to assume. And things fall into place one after another.

Assumptions are very, very bad things.

Just another brick in the wall.

If there's anything I can take away from high school, it's not long lists of literary terms or trig identities or theories on the end of history--it's the fact that good can come out of anything. Yes, anything. Does that mean it always does? Not necessarily. But the potential's there, and that's enough. That will have to be enough.

These walls mean everything to me.

I am a wrecking ball. I do not build walls. I do not build fences.

Perhaps that's a poor analogy.

I am not a builder. I am...a molder.

I was watching Time Warp this morning on Discovery (very productive use of time, I know). They warped a cymbal being hit. The entire thing shakes like Jello, the impact of the stick rippling throughout the metal and molding it as easily as aluminum foil.

What a cymbal. What a symbol.

Life can take the bad and make it good. Things will turn out all right in the end.

I have learned this.

But in some aspects, I suppose, I am still a wrecking ball.

Nothing ever really touches me.

I've used that lyric a dozen times in a dozen different contexts but always to refer to the same thing. It's by Bloc Party, possibly the greatest band of the 21st century. Regardless, it's a manifesto in its own right.

I am trying
to be heroic
in an age of
modernity
I am trying
to be heroic
and all around me
history sinks
so I enjoy
and I devour
flesh and wine and
luxury
but in my heart
I am so lukewarm
nothing ever really
touches me

It's a testament to the apathy of our day and age. It's a testament to our focus on what lays ahead and our ignorance of what lays behind. It's so passive I've retreated into the safety and security of passive verbs.

Action creates consequences.

Consequence creates change.

Change...can be beautiful.

But I am still a wrecking ball.

You can't penetrate me. No, you can't.

You

can

penetrate

me.

The time that we kill makes us alive.