I believe in nothing. This feeling tortures me. I act without conviction or purpose. Any "Truth" has failed me and left me alone in confusion.
All that may be...may be. All that may not...may be. "Seems to be" is my only guide. Seeming relationships to events and things are the stones in my winding road.
Conscious existence seems like a road. There seems to be purpose and meaning. I act as though I have conviction and direction, but any resemblance of such is simply a lie, a fabrication I have developed to appear more human.
Even now I try to convince myself that I care. My absolute indifference seems absurd and a quality of a stone or stick. Visible emotions are only reactions to stimuli that I have practiced so that I can continue to associate myself with society as a normal human being. Creating absurd relations, clinging to foggy memories and dusty dreams, and reducing every conversation to unintelligible absurdity are my only methods for perpetuating my existence.
