Is that what you thought you were doing? Reaching out to me? WTF.

How can you help me if you don't know what I'm going through? How can you figure out what I'm about unless you give a damn? You can't. That's the whole thing.

I just don't know what you were expecting? Like, am I supposed to ask you out on a date the first time round? Ugh. So confusing.

See: you don't understand what really makes me happy.

You just can't believe me when I try to describe the ecstasy I feel when waves of sound wash over me, with the most difficult of production and the deepest of pulses. I guess you don't get the passion that wells up inside of me, just to watch worlds collide -- kids partying together in the most random of settings, using the flows of the world for their own enjoyment and social readjustment. You don't know how much my heart goes out to the kids who can push themselves to stare into the blackness and somehow come out alive. I mean, if you checked the sublime you wished for me, would it be a visual representation of monetary flows, housing projects, underground economies, and the power of love? You don't know shit about art.

And you know what? That's okay. Because I'm not unhappy.

I just push as hard as I can towards that place I know I need to go. And I'll bring as many people along for the ride as want to join in...

So sit back and enjoy the little thing we call life.