Life gets rather dull at times, pretty plain if you’re a melon. Blind. Ignorant till realizing everything is a product, even yourself, and you indulge only to remain empty and alone. Work kills and play forces the suicidal hand, gesturing for it to end. It’s all shit. From any angle. In any light. Living a life I don’t want. The worst part being offered an escape, but declining it out of fear. Yet, I’m no longer sure if shit went down that way. Perhaps I’m mistaken. I could be. Nothing really is as it seems and hindsight only burdens the picture. Inflicting the blain on its surface.