You suck. You really do. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this, now before it’s too late, so that you don’t live out the rest of your days under the impression that you are actually a significant member of the human race. Ha. Human race. What a silly idea. All we are is just blacks and whites and grays that clash and clang and pretend that we really buy into the idea of peace and harmony. That’s one of the things I dislike about you. How you pretend, every bleeding day of your sorry little life. You pretend to eat and drink, sleep and breathe. You pretend to fuck and go to work and love the idiots who love you. Only, you don’t realize you’re pretending. It all tastes and smells and looks and feels real, oh so real. But your senses don’t mean a fucking thing. Life is not something you can see, reach out and touch. Life is in the pit of your soul. Life is not about the monotony and the routine, the endless rinse-wash-repeat that is your days, months, years. Life is something that you’re only vaguely aware of, seconds before you die, when the world caves in and it all turns blood red and your lungs don’t work no more. And you suck, you really do, because you’ll never know anything until it’s too fucking late.