The universe is cold.
Cold in literal and cold in demeanor.
Like the depths of your mind and the halves of your sentences.
Unknowingly, you're ruined.
I'm wondering how we've come to comprehend what we know when all it consists of is rumored humanity and aching intelligence.
We shout and we cry and we abide and we convert and we love and we hate and we wish for the things we've only been taught to wish for.
Hand-me-down desires and second-hand consequences.
And all we can do is aim for higher things, trusting that our bonds with real life aren't good enough and will never accomodate to our approximate conspiracies and our "almost" answers.
All you've known isn't real and all you'll hear are lies. It's easy for you to see the lacking fervor of life now that it's not what you'd expected, wanting only nothing but to leave.
But to which place will you go? To the moon? To the stars? To the core of the earth so that you can say you've been to the middle of it all? So that you can say you've met the standards and are now admitted and accepted to conduct the rumors and the qualifications of how we are to live our lives?
It's faulty encouragement.
It's a never-ending process.
There are no answers.
Justifying the hypocrisy through my own basis of proven point:
Rule number one is to stop looking for answers.
Rule number two is to never try and change humanity.
Rule number three is to always try and change humanity.