If people were smarter, which they're not, they would have realized a long time ago that one can never trust words. They shouldn't search for truth in a one area of our output that is so easy to play around with. Why seek truth at all? What is truth anyway? If I can convince myself that pigs can fly, does that make the statement automatically true? Well, does it? In this world, I no longer believe in truth, loyalty, unbreakable devotion. I don't believe in miracles and that if I dream hard enough I would get what I want, because this is not how the planet Earth works. My mind is my prison and my escape. No one reads the thoughts that run through the wide plains and confinements. I live as a perception of another people and people are my perceptions. There asre infinitine variations of me. There are infinitie variations of them. I am not my own person and therefore my dreams are non-existent. I can't prove them. My ambitions have an effect, but my dreams are empty wave brains.
Goodness of people is a myth. Concern is a pity. And I am afraid to look away from this self-image because then I would lose grip on things. I live to fulfill the perceptions other people have of me.