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FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

Welcome to my blog!

Hello my name is: Icicle Audacity. All I see are ghxsts. I'm the misguided stride for self improvement - a sadistic, futuristic machine. A hollow cold emitted through vibrant lights, it’s a warm as wool winter but I’ve got a chill I can’t shake. This is what I am & I think I’m fine in my own misguidance. My bones are frozen, my marrow has turned to ice - my body is just a body, a corpse without a head. I'm just a vessel & my brain has long been dead.

Dylan McAmmond
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"That's really the only thing that matters to me, is that I make art for a living. And if I make art for a living... I win."

ALL MY IDEAS BECOME PERFECT LITTLE BLIND SPOTS

This is the ultimate fear: growing  in the wrong direction, irreversibly. There is no difference between here or there except I swallow one like a placebo for good health and the other like cyanide. There, I’m reviving; here, I’m on my death-bed. The poison is administered by believing it’s toxic, and there can be no safe-haven for the man who refuses to make anywhere his home. The challenge is not to dispel it like an illusion, for it is real – that is the fatal under-estimation those who battle ideas make.

However, victory is realizing it is not a truth – with this recognition, one gains back the most invaluable weapon – that which is the mortal foe of evil ideas: hope.

Hope is the understanding of a direction one should travel in.

Now, walk.

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