If you can’t be honest with yourself, then what is there? Realities are perspectives that have been distorted by personal bias. It is time that corrupts it, experience, yet the world prizes the years you’ve lived and the things you have survived through. Is it not true then, that wiseness is built more of prejudice than anything else? A situation turns a certain way, resembling something from the past. That knowledge of previous times is then used to gauge it and react to it.

When will you cease your lies? When will you accept that what you have is not what you want? Why must it pain you so to be like everyone else? You are not unique, not even slightly different. Nothing but one of billions, all of which will die, but not before spawning billions more. To die for nothing is your fate; the same as everyone. Senseless. Life is senseless and meaningless and there is nothing in this world that will make it all better or that will alter the ultimate truth:

We are nothing.