Who decides what’s real and what’s not? Separates the facts from the fiction? The false, the untrue, the plain bullshit. Reality vs. Fantasy? Give me a fucking break. Go ahead. Tell me what you think’s real. It’s only relative to one person: you, yourself. That’s all anything – fuck, everything – is about anyway. Number one, numero uno, the true love of your life. Your world. The same – no different – as the rest. Open your eyes. Yes, both of them. Look around.
The clock is ticking. Time is moving – last time I checked, still at 60 seconds a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Though, it’s all just one big long day in my world – a constant, a place where clocks don’t exist, concerns are in the past, eyes looking towards the door and the road ahead. The direction doesn’t quite matter. The fact that I’m moving does. On my terms, my conditions. Not anybody – or everybody – else’s. I’m done with that shit. An outlaw in the shoes of the Sherriff, watching good and evil fight before my eyes. Eyes that see all. An eye for each side. Right for wrong? Or wrong for being right? The sane or the sublime? You say crazy? A twisted fantasy? Out of touch with reality? There we go again, that damn reality vs. fantasy again.
So who makes the final ruling on what’s real? What’s wrong? What’s right? What’s bad, what’s good, what’s crazy, what’s normal?
Perspective is everything.
Open your fucking eyes.