I close my eyes.
And this image floats beside me.
A sweaty-toothed madman
with a stare that pounds my brain.
His hands reach out and choke me.
And all the time he's mumbling.
"Truth. Truth is like,
like a blanket that always leaves
your feet cold.
You push it, stretch it,
it'll never be enough.
You kick at it, beat it,
it'll never cover any of us.
From the moment we enter crying
to the moment we leave dying,
it will just cover your face
as you wail and cry and scream."

- Todd Anderson, Dead Poets Society.

- An excerpt-

- Ria