...Although my fellow common persons swallow society's tracking. Are we tired of your abuse? Maybe... If nothing else, I've grown fond of the harping birds in my head... They strum rather than shriek, and I think I once desired the latter. I soon found that seeking out brain hemorrhaging was foolish, opting for aural ointment. That is when the satisfaction came, echoing a recently seen title and the subject of the preceding sentences. We are now in the business of convention destruction or should I say it is now a lifestyle. It certainly is not as stylish as it may sound. Dodging convention is a daunting task which I would much rather marry. The sad thing is that convention is a damned would-be bride, for it makes me break into hives and makes me feel as though I am suffocating. I guess I love weirdos and freaks, but it is not like I dislike people who like conventional things. I dislike the conventional for my lifestyle. It really overtakes me like scabies during two-hour seminars about William Blackstone and his brilliance in social construction. Whatever I become in the next decade, please let me be able to bear it and wear it because a love for convention I can never share it ...
