2/8/09

False hope is more hurtful than no hope at all. Consideration and respect are things of the past. Honor is quaint, and decency a relic reserved for the eccentrics. All is weighed on the cruel balance of profit and ego, the cost-benefit societal poison.

I should start assuming that everyone I meet is a liar and pretentious two-faced hypocrite. On the rare occasion I'm wrong, it'll be that much sweeter. And since we're assuming things, it seems the healthiest option to assume myself incapable of achieving anything I want from the outset. Do you not find that as soon as you want something it becomes infinitely harder to achieve? And if you were so fortunate as to have the ability to stop caring about, or to kill all desire for it, do you not see that that which you have forsaken comes unbidden? How is that reasonable? What kind of cruel irony is that, and who is laughing? To give of yourself, to be passionate, is to be taken advantage of. And the more you give, the more they will take, until you are nothing but an empty insignificant echo of the full-throated roar of the ocean that was your soul.

And yet there is no nobler way of life. But then who cares about nobility in this brave new age?