Monsoon.

Well, it’s the name of the song I’m currently addicted to. It’s by Tokio Hotel, and has a German( I think, I suck at recognising languages) and English version.

 

It’s partly true to say that life is really one big monsoon, and all we’re really doing is running from place to place, finding the best shelter money/sex/peanuts can buy. There are so many obstacles, yet so few rewards. Some might argue that it’s worth it ; These people are still alive. Some people don’t believe it is ; Those are dead, and those who aren’t yet are too afraid to commit suicide.

 

I belong to the latter group, simply because I know that you only know how badly you want to live when you’re staring death right in the face, assuming death actually has a face. Though I really suspect death really looks like a normal guy, and is constantly grumbling about the consistently heavy workload and minimum wage from Satan. And you couldn’t really even blame Satan for it, since he is, by all definitions and meanings, supposed to be an asshole anyway.

 

Going to shoot stuff in about 12 hours. I suspect I’ll have a nihilistically fun time doing it. And part of me will be proud of it.