The world is our stage, it is the well of our lives, the place where we love and love finds us, or so it seems. But it is not entirely in the least sense of what it seems. We are the most vicious animals to lay hands to this world. I’m no better than the next man but I admit my sins, I ask for forgiveness, and receive none in return. It is purely a gesture of my respect for being better, and the lost hope that maybe we could treat each other with some hint of respect, on the most primal and primordial levels. Here we stand, and here I stand; every time you’re serious people laugh in your face, and every time you’re kidding they want to punch you in the face. A tragedy of the human condition, to never understand, to downplay the loneliest of hearts, and to play up the prosperity of personal gains and to overvalue their losses above the worlds. Here I stand alone, unheard while I don’t ask for blood, I don’t ask for love, I don’t ask for money, and I certainly don’t ask for the world to accept me. All I could ask for is a good drink and a good friend, while I spiral my ostracized existence into the cool tethered blackness. It’s never enough though, I still wake up every morning, and I soak in the whiteness that consumes my bland mind.