Hedonism

My life is a lie. I'm not kidding. So is yours if you're reading this, very probably. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but it's very likely that everyone's life is a lie. I cannot be entirely sure, but there isn't that much doubt.

I can see the sea from my window. I find that quite exciting. I like the sea. When it's dark the way it is now I can't make out the limit between the sea and the sky. It's all black then. All the same - air, water, whatever. So I retire to my books. In the books it's always summer, or always daytime, depending. Things are always simple anyway. Always predictable, or if they aren't, at least they're always entertaining. There's always some reason, some motive behind things. And they never concern me directly.

I knew the storm was getting closer
And all my friends said I was high.
But everything we've ever known's here.
I never wanted it to die.

I think (tho I'm not sure) I've come to the conclusion that being insane is very probably the easiest way out. It rids you of so much responsibility. Why should I be one of those who are trying to make things work? It's so much easier to make it all about yourself. If anyone asks you why you've failed in life you can always quote some pseudo-psycho-babble. Who are we trying to impress anyway? In the end we all die. I strongly doubt anything matters. Prove me wrong.