The substance is not in the questions, or accomplishments. It has something to do with the wilderness that is about us, the scarring scars left by something rather unusual. Whilst we try to convince the self in a matter of grave devotion, something brilliantly horrific is being plotted against the gaiety that we cherish in the moment. And even if it is absolutely incomprehensible to the usual level of logic, it is not entirely invisible.
Just breaking the barrier of boundaries is not enough. Staying within them is also a desirable niche, pertinent to the state of anarchy we force ourselves in. And to just refuse to be a part of the absurd pointless "rebellion"; is not a matter of voluntary refusal, nor of regret; but just a light appeal of denying corrosion of the self for ridiculous and unworthy reasons.
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