Wild Thing.

Sometimes through all those bitchings, judgements, criticism, looks and never ending shit talking, it's good to get slapped in the face with what the reality is.


1. Wondering Stories

We’re forests, concealing our monsters. Our hearts are wild creatures, caged by our ribs, oozing in and out with waves of crimson. These monsters are constantly working, craving, moving.

Not all monsters are scary. But they’re all dangerous. We’re all dangerous.



And the next person who reads this. Each one of you can twist and alter someone’s timeline. Unless, of course, it was fate in the first place. I’m not sure if I believe that. But, like I said, we can all take someone’s life. We all have the ability to create someone, who can take someone’s life.


How does it feel to know you have that much power?


Remember that story, you used to read as a child – Where The Wild Things Are. The story about the little boy, who found himself on an island, inhabited by malicious beasts, the Wild Things. I thought of myself as the boy, seeking adventure, still knowing I could go back home to comfort. But now, maybe we’re more like the Wild Things.


Perhaps that’s a negative perspective; a ‘half empty’ thought. Notice my use of the semi-colon. It’s ironic, if you knew what this accumulation of words was about, but can’t expect you to understand. Some people, we must remember, are very close minded. And that’s the problem.


It’s funny how a lot of teenagers repulse the idea of libraries, books, the old dusty smell of the bundles of paper holding dreams and fragments of the imaginary and memories and reality. It’s funny because the world, really, is a floating library in the shape of a giant ball in space, amongst the unknown. We’re all books, in the form of living, breathing bodies.

We all have stories, ourselves.


So, read mine.

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