What makes some people strong, yet some people cry, some can do it with their hands, yet others with their eyes? If you read this, you know what it is.
My life is a series of run-on sentences and dead-end thoughts. Mix this with an urge to merge on the freeway and you have me down pegged. I follow the beat of drums, heartbeats, odd knocking sounds in engines, you name it. I see things slightly askew from other people, finding beauty where others see neglect or delapidation. People would call me crazy for the things and events I like, but I just remind people I am insane, not crazy. There is a difference: Insanity is genius gone wrong.
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