It is the saddest thing to see the world stripped of its illusions. It is like drinking a glass of hate, and being forced to smile afterwards.
I know nothing. In a world full of ideas, I really do know nothing. Even if I knew every idea in our world I would know nothing.
What have my incredible powers (here I laugh at myself) ever given me? Money? Power? The love of a beautiful woman?
What amusing thoughts. None of them accurate.
I own nothing. I own only the tattered, unoriginal, biased and narrow thoughts in my head.
I hear the sounds of my blood rushing around my brain when I go to sleep. I hear the night creatures tussle and growl. I hear strange whispered words, the secret words of lovers maybe, stolen by the breeze.
And biting always into my leg, I feel a tumor of sadness as my illusions are stripped away.
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