It was said that this legendary album was the missing link between emo and post-hardcore, making it the base of many other bands who venture into the arts of the genres mentioned above.
Till today, no one has stepped up and proved this theory wrong.
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My soul is weary.
Long nights haunt me now. I could not stay up too late, lest my eyes drool and drip out copious amounts of hydrogen oxide. My body clock has turned itself on me; now, I am but a walking, lifeless soul that spends my days with my mind wandering off to lands of flowers and watery graves.
My life serves no purpose, for I am the God of my own life. I am not an atheist, and I will never be one; it is too hypocritical to assume something that could not be real to could not be real when your assumption could not be real in the first place. I am fighting for something in my life that I could grasp, could physically hold it with my palms closed around it tightly, but what is it? An academic certificate? A trophy? A gun?
A life?
Perhaps, in this world where nothing comes cheap, I have come to succumb to the fears of the feared. The damning of the damned. I am not myself, and I will never be until I search for the fragment in my life that I sorely lack. A piece of the puzzle that has hid itself under the moldy couches and never to be found again until the end of days.
Mechanical hands type this post as I look up at the clock perched beside the television. It is half past two in midnight, a customary time for most humans to fall asleep and dream of gold and sex. I am too tired to sleep and too energetic to stay awake. I can feel judgmental eyes laying itself on me, waiting for me to make an error worthy of them to mention in daily gossips on a round table with overly sweet snacks and ice cold drinks.
And I shall find my soul back, along with its essence.
