Memories... Memories blur into dreams Light bleeds into truth Everything unforgiving Everything becoming hollow Loneliness consumes And there is no way back The places you played The places you called home The people you thought you loved All of them Reduced to a memory of another life Life you never lived All the yesterdays that can't form a tomorrow All the tomorrows That never came from yesterday A new beginning Because forever Is never forever.
[...] being human is being a young child on Christmas Day who receives and absolutely magnificent castle. And there is a perfect photograph of this castle on the box and you want more than anything to play with the castle and the knights and the princesses because it looks like such a perfect human world, but the only problem is that the castle isn't built. It's in tiny intricate pieces, and although there's a book of instructions you don't understand it. And nor can your parents or Aunt Sylvie. So you are just left, crying at the ideal castle on the box which no one would ever be able to build.
Bist du hübsch, kommst du eingeblidet rüber. Bist du hässlich, sagt es dir jeder. Bist du selbstbewusst, nennt man dich Player oder Schlampe. Bist du schüchtern, meint man, du kannst den Mund nicht aufmachen. Bist du klug, bist du ein Streber. Bist du dumm, heißt es, du hast kein Gehirn. Machst du was richtig, merkt es keiner. Machst du was falsch, wird es niemand vergessen.
Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before? Are you out there on the front lines or at home keeping score? Do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate? Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?