Diuretic

More and more, I feel like everyone else is either insane or retarded. Obsessions with inanity, and avoidance of reality has lead everyone to incredible superficiality. Time seems to only increase the sense of profound realness, and all I can think of is how much better dreams are than real life sometimes. The intensity of sensation is so great, but sometimes its overkill and I dislike it. Dreams are more interesting, but less beautiful compared to wakeful stimulus. With all the obligations of life, no wonder I ponder death. I see the unknown as a beautiful inevitability: a state of deep sleep to the long moment that is life. I only keep myself because there is so much that I still feel I must accomplish for everyone else before I go. The only reason that keeps me alive is everyone else, not because I love them, but because I am so sorry for them, and I feel like they deserve better than themselves. This retarded generation. When I see how shallow they are, it hurts my soul, and to know that they will hate me for the truth I represent; melancholy is only a word, to see these children wallowing aimlessly in their own confusion makes the wide plane of existence seem cruel. This is why I exist, to end their confusion, to end superficiality and the barriers to their enlightenment.