A friend of mine wrote this, and it doesn't fully make sense outside of the story, but I just found it so brilliant. About how people can be so closed off to things that doesn't fit into their "mold" of how things, people, and situations should be like. Those people miss out on a lot of things in life.

“Discomfiture. Dejection. Dolefulness.

The world is spinning in a different direction tonight. Not the way that makes sense, the sense that has been made for years. It's vexatious. Tipped to the toes, dangling on the edge of the deep infinity. Green I imagine it is, infinity. Shades, all different shades, reflecting of each other, making rainbows. As the world pirouettes around it's own axle, my mind curves in other directions, frames my mental pictures with distortion. Accompanied by a obscure melody that twinkle in ink. Life is abashing now.”

"Exaggeration.
It's so easily done. One little extra word, that make any story more interesting, more entertaining, more shocking, more romantic. Just plain more.

I don't need more. I need real.

Real feelings, real thoughts, real reactions. Stripped from falseness and pretense.

So I stopped exaggerating. Stopped adding adjectives, and adverbs when they are not needed. Where their only purpose is to add something, without having a real meaning.

I stopped using superlatives.

My friends think I'm boring now. Bleak. A faded version of who I used to be. I'm not.

I'm more myself than ever before. I just wish that it would mean something. That it would matter that I peeled away what was forged.

It doesn't.

Not the way I want it to anyway. “

"The sunrays slice through the air and make the dust in the air visible. I take aim at one little dust particle and follow its playful way in the light, until it is lost together with the rest of the dust outside of the sunrays and I can't find it anymore. That little particle is much like me now, lost and bunched up with everyone else. I will never find that particular bit of dust again, it is forever lost to me, the same way I'm lost.

Dark shadows hunt me as I race towards what I believe is my saving grace. Again and again I bump against walls that are jagged and sharp, scraping my fragile skin. I can feel blood trickle down my bare arms, drawing crimson patterns against the paleness. Suddenly I'm trapped in a dead end and the shadows creep closer. As they close in, hovering over me, I feel my throat closing up and the air can't find its way down to my lungs. Gasping, I wrap my hand around my neck. This is it.

Startled I twist in the sheets, choking the scream that nearly escaped from my mouth and pant as my pulse slows down. Same dream as every time I sleep. You would think I should be used to it now, but the fear never subsides. The sunrays are gone and have been replaced with a hollow blackness. It's more comforting then it should be. Because now everyone is lost, when there's no sun to single you out. We're all in the shadows, equal. Lost together."