I walk around in squares inching my way to permanent bliss. If such bliss ever arrives I will be sure to shun it. To be manic in deadsville is not simply a motto- rather it is a command that occupies such noble truths as to look up and be alive or rather be manic and second never underestimate a deadsville snob. These are the ones whom walk with permanent frowns occupying lies of feast or famine. I walk around in squares. It is not all day, most days I am at the public library feasting on knowledge. But it is at most times of the days that I am simply walking. I run into people sometimes and they shout and say “well…why the heck did you run into me.” I nod and walk away with a superior grin, because of course I am manic. To be manic is not necessarily a bad thing-it just happens to get in the way of all the deadsville snobs. I walk around tempting people to be as manic as I am…I have seen the people with frowns on their faces waiting to be mean to me…and I shout have a lovely day and I leave it at that. Though I am not immortal I feel such an existence is pertinent to my betrayal of the frowning folk. I have to walk not because there is nothing to do, but because it is early in the morning and I am of course on some mania trip. But the thing is, understand this if you hesitate to underestimate the frowning functionals, that the thing of the matter is that I live each day as a walker. I walk, I talk and barely do I listen. Although I believe listening is a valuable skill. I don’t do it, because, well yes I am manic. And the places I walk around I already know. It is not comforting to me, it is simply in my manic phase that I choose to exalt my welcome. Well, if I overstay my welcome I can always say that I did so in a mania type phase et cetera.
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