Society is painfully depressing these days. Ready to sell your souls to the inter-web? Hearts are simply html tricks. How can love be worth more than your Pentium Processor? We are not taught to love like we are taught to type but touching tastes better on the tips of carpal tunnel ridden fingers because attention seeking is innate. Internet blogging causes internet stalking. Are you ready to sell your soul to the intwer-web? I said, Are you ready to sell your soul to the internet, [pay]pal? But I am not a victim. I am sadly a self proclaimed criminal of open armed typing. Cheap poetic talks of broken hearts and past lives. Nothing is realer than meeting your match one jpeg at a time. What is a secret but a copy-pasted-fwd piece of gossip? What is love but the ownership of a copy written webpage. And who are you to judge a person with more time for an email than lunch? People are painfully depressed with the real world and openly obsessed with the cyber world. Lets face it reality [giga]bytes. But money is time and I am a criminal. So is it my place to point a dirty finger at a fashionable heart on your shoulder? Or is it myspace to double click & upload your heart into a folder? I am not a victim. I am only a criminal enslaved into a telephone line. I can type love faster than I could say it. What is this anonymity that we accept before Jesus? What are these lies we swallow before we can see this? Less loved ones than people on your friend’s list. It used to be man before machine but we’ve created it. Somewhere in our hard drives, we rule. We are not victims. We are the creators of our future’s demise. But as long as its my space, I rule. People are painfully depressed and completely obsessed ready to sell their souls to the internet.