--Everything is unreal, a view through the glass filter I called my life, overlooking a small white room with a house of cards balanced precariously on a small table.

Then the cards came crashing down, one by one, and the room turned as empty and devoid as space, somehow the cards having more life then I did, my whole existence was written in printed images on cheap playing cards.

Then, It all connected, Everything that happened, everything I saw, we were all the same, we just couldn't admit it, we couldn't see it, igniting any similarities and calling them coincidence.

I watched the cards disintegrate, then ignite, the pieces floating up like little butterflies made up of flame and pieces of my soul.

I realize now what it all meant--

ttgpt. 39