you're not the boss of me

And yet here we are again.  You are the boss of me.  You've always known what was best for me.  I speak not of you in particular but the idea of you as opposed to me.  The kind of you that metaphysics professors talk about after an I.V. full of caffeine is pumped through their corpus collosum.  There was also the matter of the decaying idea of yourself, or if you prefer not to think in dire terms, the half-life of facts.  The best ideas are always those which come and go in an instant, only to be later found again and re-evaluated as being truly exemplative of the metamorphosis of genius, but I digress...

You always told me to keep it simple Sam.  I wouldn't listen, and I couldn't seeing as how complicated everything seemed, begging for me to explain it all in one hundred-forty characters or less.  There wasn't time to find a thread of truth when we go to the end of the day because there are always those viewpoints which differ from ours and especially yours and most importantly mine.  Ttyl my friend.