Sometimes it can become all so clear.
Happiness.
We seek golden hearts.
Our potentially infinite existence thrives on the basis of all hope and all expectation: to have the joy humankind so desires.
What is there to do after this revalation but to end it? Nothing can be so natural as the fear and despair that follows insight like a shadow.
So the music turns up, the toxins numb, the fantasies conceal, and the droll progression of time pulls us along.
Let's have some molasses, shall we?
