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Dear Nelle,
Stop searching for happiness. True happiness is born from your own soul.
Follow your dreams; I wish that I had. You could become famous. Shit, You're spunky enough. Just believe in yourself, and others will believe in you as well. Take your own advice - Confidence is attractive. Concentrate on your own contentment; Fuck everyone else. True Love turns out to be nothing but a mere mirage. Like Peace; You'll never actually attain it. Just quit looking. I know that you will continue searching anyway - That's just your way; Never satisfied until you're dissatisfied. Learn as much as possible because it will help you later when you come to terms with the fact that Religion and Faith have become synonymous. Don't fret too much over money. You won't need it. By the time you're twenty-five, the government will have weaned you off of paper and metal currency. Instead, you will have a traceable computer chip, which will allow you to purchase, sell, and learn anything that the government deems appropriate. Also, enjoy your "Hippiedom" while choices are still yours to make.Soon, you won't be able to piss without the entire world being alerted. The global village concept, which you deemed ignorant, will finally begin to emerge by about 2035. Oh! You were right about one thing; Draco turns out to be the AntiChrist after all. Right now are the Seven peaceful years promised before the onslaught of the Apocalypse ensues. Don't worry, though; You won't die drowning in a lake of fire like the others. Rather will you commit suicide as the world implodes - I have already seen to that.
See You in the Next Life,
Ishtar
Post Scriptum -
You do Die holding hands.

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Alone
On a street choked with people
They come in droves
Intending to leave
They inevitably stay
Who can You call when Your mind
Runs away
Dreamer
In a logical land
You'll never be
King
You're just a
Common Man
Retreat to Your
Silence
They've smoked all of the
Stardust
Prayers
Without faith
Are but words
Void of meaning
Like You
An empty soul
Without
Heart
Or
Mind
Don't breathe too deeply
The say the air contains
Carcinogenics
So You watch the microwave
Glow
Go ahead and Cry,
Little Boy
As Our species' blind expansion
Assasinates Creativity
In the ignorant Hope
Of Creating a unified existence
Genocide
Occuring unnoticed
Under the pseudonym,
'Righteousness'
The Spiritually starved
Cry rivers
In which
Drown the arrogant
Political Promises
Serve as a decent
Substitute for
Silence, now
The morals of Fairy Tales
Long forgotten
Obsolete
'Don't Get Caught'
The blanket Rule
If We only deal
In the Tangible,
We might just get by
Black-and-White,
A seemingly perfect
Puzzle,
But Perfection begat
Boredom
As True character
And Intrigue
Were conceived by Imperfection
Unfounded actions
Bring
Unwarranted Pain
Post Mortem Importance
Our generation's Disease
Take a Pill to
Cure what ails You
Live in Your
Synthetic Reality
It won't be long
Before Love becomes
Synonymous with
Death
And Our superficiality is
Complete.

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