Esther_Greenwood
Miss New York, U.S.A. It's complicated
Thinking about ending it all. To be or not to be, that is indeed the question. But crap, who even cares about Shakespeare's stories. In the end, they're nothing more but moths, trying to look like butterflies. Just like life. People may smile, but behind each smile is the moth in each of us. Everyone either knows we are but finite creatures, ugly underneath, but is too afraid to acknowlegde it, or they are too foolish to understand it altogether. Then we are either knowingly or unknowingly trapped in our impending doom that is death. If we then are but finite, how can anything be of value? For all good things shall end. Why not end the suffering that is then without fruit right now?
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