the garbage truck setting off the car alarms

You know, there is a reason for which I did not say it aloud. Though, it was said in every other possible form. Well, it is more than a single reason, actually. I do not belong to one interface.

I feel every now and then that everything I've been led to believe is nothing but a pack of crap. Or nearly all of it. Beneath that lies a reason, I should tell.

Objectivity. The person who taught me how to open both eyes and even a third one when everyone else is half-asleep speaks out from the very core of my being. Intimidating.

Moreover, and with some tiny difference, after being distant for so long, every particle hops joyful like a child in a Christmas morning. A biggest part of me is driven opaque; in spite of the marvelous effort given to dim it. And it finally turns me into the perennial pubescent guy, carrying over his never-relaxed shoulders the main cause.
Puss.
That's just it.
[... maybe that'll be the cause of my death too.

Now I know you know.

I wonder. If some words had been a bit simplier. Still, life wouldn't be any less hard. You would find a way to keep a balance in it. And so would I. <Edited 26/04/11 16:27>]

And it won't get any better if I keep listening. Wish I had never been given this. Now I play it sourly every time, trying not to get the piano wet by the river of sorrow.