This video is the first official project by Laughing At My Nightmare, Inc. The message is extremely profound, yet very simple: we all have the choice to be happy. Reblog, share, show, and tell the world if you agree.
Why do we believe in things we aren’t capable of doing?
Covenants that could never possibly be kept in this crypt,
This graveyard,
This necropolis.
This world,
This script.
Why do put our trust and ourselves into others?
Only to be kicked down and deteriorated into dust.
We are all just dust.
Deadlocked and paralyzed, disgustingly, until we are brushed off.
Then landing on another clean slate only to create more filth.
We are a corrupt and contagious disease.
I see no reason to fall asleep.
There is no reason to shut my eyes when the world has already shut her eyes on me.
I have no more dreams, I just have reality.
And I hope one day, reality will set me free.
I wonder if I’ll ever meet the heat in this hell,
A wretched abode where no real human can lively dwell.
A cold, deceitful, desolate prison of machines.
Where all you have is your name and your soul to sell.
From her tight-grasping, confounding grip.
Oh, what a detrimentally, chaotic fucking trip.
Curious if I’ll ever see the light in this dark again.
Oh, I would love to pretend that it’s really the end.
Why did I let you in?
How could I let this begin?
Unaware of what I would become.
Wasted away and paper thin.
Every encaged part of me,
is craving to be set free.
But I’m locked away and shunned,
in the dark cave where no man can see.
I’ve known how to let go,
but now I’m having a problem grabbing on.
You came along,
and for once in my life, it didn’t feel wrong.
I’m having a problem grabbing on.
Just to be locked and chained in.
Peculiar.
But what makes you so different from any other sin?
Why did I let you in?
I’m sitting in my dorm room on a sunday night. I’m reading about history in america. Really important stuff. The past is really important. I’m sitting here thinking…”Who the fuck cares about this stuff?” Apparently a lot of people do. The history of integrating southern schools in the fifties was important stuff. And then it struck me. “Who cares about the past?” Sure we learn from it. Sure we grow from it. The past shapes who we are, but we can’t let it consume us. That’s the difference between someone who talks about succeeding, and someone who actually does it. I’m sick of being that fucking guy who sits around and talks about what happened in yesteryear. I’m sick of sitting around… talking.
Life is too short to do anything but what you love. I can’t help but think that school literally does not matter to me at this point and I’m literally just wasting time to protect myself for after college. To get a degree conventionally, to support a family. Well what if I don’t want to be protected. What if I want to live my life the way I want to? Who the fuck is anybody else to tell me that I can’t?
I’ve wanted to play music ever since I was little kid. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I would kill to be what certain people were to me growing up; to be that guy to some kid who inspires him to play or keep on playing. I can’t help but think that I will never be happy unless I’m on a stage playing music that I love to people that it’s really affecting. To have them singing words, that I wrote that mean something to them, back to me.
Why am I wasting so much time? Why don’t I devote everything I have to this? For protection? For what? It doesn’t matter how protected I am. It doesn’t matter how much money I ever earn. It doesn’t matter. I could have all the money in the world and I still wouldn’t be happy if it wasn’t doing the thing that I loved. I won’t give up until I achieve that. As long as I live.
She’s easily the most adorable human being on this planet.
Founded on false hopes,
A beast that has no boundaries.
If the love is disturbed,
Neither soul sleeps soundly.
A dreadful bond between beings,
Especially when they are apart,
If love is lost without seeing,
Then comes the attack on the heart.
Love is a dreadful bond,
When a distance is brought.
Absence makes the heart grow fond,
Or so I thought.
Out of sight, Out of mind,
A ridiculous cliche.
An unfair reality to find,
That happens everyday.
Sick to your stomach,
Of the endless fights,
Agony of the heart,
Sleepless nights.
Breaks you down,
Til there’s no more,
With your wings clipped,
it’s hard to soar.
Someday I’ll fly again,
But not in a long time.
I lost my best friend,
and the love of my life.
Love is a dreadful bond,
Between two souls.
A single bullet through the heart,
that leaves many holes.
