Existence. Well, what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future. The present is well out of hand.

So this is permanence; love-shattered pride.
What once was innocence, has turned on its side. 


“They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn…” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road

They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn…” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road