Title

Man, you can spend all your time looking for a needle in a haystack that contains only hay.

You can try to find meaning where there is none.

You can think about things that seem legitimate, but they're really just constructs of your mind.

You can get stuck in a trap you invent for yourself and never get out.

I can wonder about every little thing in life, paralyzed, unable to take any sort of action, or I can act, and do, and be a fool. I can be everyone's fool. Am I everyone's fool?

I can watch myself wither away and rot. Hey, I'm in my twentieth year of rotting in my own skin. Don't I look sophisticated and rigid? Don't I bring an air of formality to every occasion, with my stone-faced expression, unwavering voice, and what seems to be an inability to associate with people? Getting along well with others, does not necessarily entail allowing others to know you. It's easy to be well liked when you don't do or say anything. It's easy to be well-liked when you do not speak your mind. If life is a series of cliffs with pits between them, and to jump from one cliff to another constitutes a meaningful life experience, I am the person who does not jump of his own volition. Thus far, I have mostly been pushed to the next cliff, or pulled onto the next cliff. It's comfortable, and it's also maddening. My fear, I guess, is that if I try to jump on my own, I will fall. I have built up this house of cards; the returns are diminishing. Here I am, building up to the top, and it's taking more and more effort, but the building becomes smaller as you go up too.

I'm in my twentieth year of putting on an act. The act is that I have all my shit together. If you know me well enough, you realize it's all built on the same foundation as a house of cards.