Right?
And as tu enter life does everyone place their bets on if tu will succeed o fail? As tu age, through those terrible fucking years tu go through, everyone seems to have a cuchillo at your throat waiting for tu to mess up so they can apply más pressure to the blade? So they can wait 'till tu mess up again and dig it deeper, and slowly through all your mistakes tu make, all the small mistakes tu make, the people holding the cuchillo to your throat get the chance to slit it. And drop the weakest link, because once tu mess up, since everyone thought tu were perfect and expected tu to excel in every fucking piece of shit tu 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 tu 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 tu aren't aloud to have? Because tu have no imperfections, that's why tu aren't aloud. And when tu 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 tu travel, maturing and aging, but those fucking people, that had a cuchillo to your throat, now add one to your back. tu gain some friends but they are those people, and as your trust for them grows the blade is slowly digging into your skin, tu can feel it too. But as the fucking good little angel tu are, tu 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 por treason, and is now nothing but a ember glowing in the ash. tu keep walking though, 'cause there is always light at the end of the tunnel, someone waiting for tu 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 tu do? tu then grow up believing tu were never good enough for anyone; anything. How could anyone amor a freak like you? Someone that doesn't know how to fight and just takes the shit that is thrown at them? But tu were raised that way? tu were always taught to be loving and compassionate, and because every time tu did stand your ground and fight back the knives would cut tu down till tu were nothing.
Right?
So here tu are at the guillotine, there is no need for you. tu 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 mesa, tabla for tu failing is awarded to the betters, and tu are going to fall like the rest of the freaks that don't fit in.
Right?
Wrong.
tu back away, and dive off the tightrope. Who wants to live a life like everyone else, when tu can live free. Who gives a fuck if everyone around tu spits in disgust, you're you.
So even if tu don't feel needed, even if tu aren't brand new, even if tu aren't the shiniest, o the strongest, the thickest, o the coolest. tu are still tu and even if tu are the weakest link, tu 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 escritura it out... I don't care if this get one view o none.. it just felt goof to get it out.))
Trystan's civvies~
