Surrounded by lights and echoes of lights, I hurtle through the dark. I don't know which is which anymore. I don't know where I am.
Shouldn't you know this landscape by now, kid?
But I don't, and so I tread coals and the tops of clouds like something out of a dream. Dissolve into the glittering dragon's scales on the highway. There are tentacles growing out of trees and my eyes are too big and too wide, and I am too much of a child to understand anything (but isn't that what keeps you safe?)
Maybe. But I'd like to think there's honesty in it somewhere.
And you'd like to think you matter.
Stop it.
Like there's anything you can do to stop you from being unimportant. Like there's anything anyone can do. Don't you get it? Nobody matters, no matter what they do. Whether you find the cure for cancer or you spend your life on the streets, talking shit. You are just another tiny little ant, crawling this planet day after day, hoping you'll find something worth living for.
Shut up.
Why? I'm right, and you know I am.
Yes, but that's the point. We have to keep making ourselves feel less unimportant because, no matter what anyone says, humans don't handle shit very well. We can't allow ourselves to believe that this is all there is.
Hey kid?
Uh-huh?
You just lost the game.
Damn. You two, whoreface.
Cunt.