Bonjour!

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With the chances of audiance, this meager range will gurantee that if you are reading this, you probably know me. I'm not going to investigate further because then I would have to ask how You see me, and all that nonsense, then write individual parts based on every damned sure account, to fit it to the picture perfect standard that hollywood demands of us, should our voices ever reach past those of the mirror. With that said, I am going to assume that, regardless of whether or not you know me, I do not know you. Hello, You. You have a past, dont you? Happy moments, sad moments, meloncholied depression that was like candied cocaine to your art work? Did you have the kind of past where music flowed through you and the bass became your very pulse? I ask these things, No, Not to boast, What a boarish, Frightning Thing. It's ringing, over load, These things we learn to sell, Our souls, For hours in a day, Behaving, Rage enslaving, Aries, Come to play, Our pleasures, Even after Eden fell to prey, Behaving, Over load, This things we learn to spell, No, I ask this, Something close.. To see exactly what's ticking on in this lovely society we have. What language do you speak? I speak few, and what little I know is broken up to bits. This has a point actually. Assuming anyone has read this far has to mean something. The added chance that you know me, and this impact is fifty-fifty, here at age 22. Im going to pick up another frivolous hobby, and write the story of my boring life. I like to think, "I can be fairly well with the whole writing bit". It may get a bit wonky and wonderland-esque from time to time, but the encompassing language I've learned can be described in no other way, besides. The world to me is not only when I'm awake, but when I'm asleep. I understand that they are two different realms, abiding two different structures of law and translation, but one law is shared that I know of: "If you affect one, you affect the other." Kinda like that movie that just came out, come on you know the one. Spooky, right? But look, we've brought to light a core structure, raw of mind. And here, I'm elevated. Just in thought, an odd behavior. I actually, kind of picked up poetry from my mom. I never knew that she had studied Jung while I was growing up. I mean, that explained the dream dictionary that hovered around our bookshelves like an old memory, until it was finally lost in the waves of transition. Sometimes six months. Sometimes a year or two before we left again. Typically, it was around the same old areas, meeting new friends and losing family, as age and time will continue to cost us, no matter the structure. I never realized another critical fact of difference in my life, but as far as my immediate family may be concerned, men have never been permanent in our lives. Considering the chances of existing behavior in just a few generations time (by my own assumption), would imply that at some point, a mass amount of females intentionally rejected the assistance of male energy, enough to train their offspring to a point of "thats just how it is", and so we forget our history, continue the tradition, and never question the chances of existence in such a way. As Jordan Peterson might say, that in itself is something to behold. So, not only did my mother study Jung, but we might have been involved in some weird events before Grandma went total Christian. It's a shame to think one can't decribe the vast differences between native american, and Catholic, no wait Baptisit...Methodist, that...you know what? The name doesnt matter, we can talk about that later. But time can only do so much, to see where you travel after so long, story to story, blending and blurring, until you dont even know where to start? I think I'll stop there, At Hello.