I have come to this gradual, final and absolute realisation that most people in my life are complete and utter f*cking a**holes at their deepest core. If my own mind weren't such a hellish place I could probably thrive in my own company, recede back into the cerebral landscapes, untainted by the garish colours of people's sickness. It is no wonder my own ego has become obnoxious; it needs to save itself from all the other obnoxious egos that inflict themselves upon me. I don't know why, but I can't deal with it. I do not understand the world. I have this acute hypersensitivity to other people's sh*t. I understand its origin, but I can never understand what to do with it. It sinks into me and eats me alive like the creeping landslide of nihilism that invades your mind on a bad acid trip. It never resolves. The bitterness takes over until the sickness is drowned, but the problem itself never resolves.