I Want To Change My Punctuation. I

Deep Under Our Feet The Earth Holds Its Molten Breath, While The Bones Of Countless Generations Watch Us And Wait.

I Can’t Seem To Make Myself Care About Anything To The Right Or Left Of The Present.

We Smile, Because This Is How We Save The World.

My "heart". Does That Pitiful Organ Still Represent Anything? It Lies Motionless In My Chest, Pumping No Blood, Serving No Purpose, And Yet My Feelings Still Seem To Originate Inside Its Cold Walls. My Muted Sadness, My Vague Longing, My Rare Flickers Of Joy. They Pool In The Center Of My Chest And Seep Out Of There, Diluted And Faint, But Real.

You Should Always Be Taking Pictures, If Not With A Camera Then With Your Mind. Memories You Capture On Purpose Are Always More Vivid Than The Ones You Pick Up By Accident.