It is only in rare moments which I gain the clarity or some would say delusion to see things in another perspective that suddenly cause me to put to doubt everything it is that I do. Perhaps it is not normal to live and bask in your own filth for weeks on end (Though pigs seem to find this normal) before you finally decide that it is time for a change (because you are not a pig, though you have nothing against them) and suddenly turn your living situation inside-out to bring fourth a new sort of 'freshness' and 'energy' that makes you feel as if you just walked into an apartment owned by someone who reads a lot of home decor magazines and decided to make their own shitty rendition out of their living space because they have nothing else left to live for in life.

Alas, this freshness is the same as the groceries at the supermarket, temporary... and even though you can throw those green onions that you just bought into the fridge, no matter what you try to do, it will only be a matter of days and weeks before they, just like the look of your apartment will decay into the black filth that it once was, as it was always meant to be because both you and I know that you bought way too many green onions for one person to eat and you're only supposed to buy a small bundle at a time because who the fuck are you kidding? You're eating by yourself tonight,

and every night for that matter because though you can have those occasional bursts of normality, just like the shitty home decor apartment you created, that's just not your natural state. What goes up, must come down. What goes around, comes around. Why is 6 afraid of 7? Because 7 8 9.

You're like a black male whose crackhead parents survived on section-8 in Inglewood, who by some freak glitch in the matrix time traveled 90 years is now suited up at some cocktail party full of young white folks who represent the nouveau riche of the roarin' 20s.

Sure, if you can keep your mouth shut and not blow your cover, people might just think you're Louis Armstrong's retarded, mute brother or something since he's playing right now up on the stage, and shit, this place isn't half bad with you getting served free drinks by the staff while you scope out the fine white bitches strolling around, but is this really where you belong? Would you be able to belong, even if you tried you hardest? And how long could you even keep up your best effort? Besides, Is this really how things are supposed to be though you might want them so? 

Some people desire to live outside in the sun, but the possibility of that dream ever becoming a reality is as laughable as me trying clean my apartment and do my laundry on a regular basis because the reality is that some of those people that want to bask in the rays of that giant ball of exploding hydrogen are actually swamp things,

born and raised in the deepest, darkest depths of the beautifully mysterious and wretched Florida everglades and the mere sight of sunlight will burn their retinas dry, blinding them for lyfe thus going out into the sun would consequently, logically, severely result in their utter death, destruction, and demise as demonstrated in this film clip: 

So with that being said, versus trying to metaphorically spread your wings and learn how to fly and falling flat on your face every single time, maybe it's just better to live out the remainder of your existence as what the universe intended for you to be, that is either dancing beautifully in the sunlight with your friends, without a care in the world or dwelling amongst snakes, alligators, and other swamp things, in a murky pond playing poker to pass the time.

Alternatively, you could attempt to stick your middle finger at the universe and step into the swamp then proceed to contract and die from malaria from mosquito bites or step out into the sunlight and be incinerated just like Captain Kaneda. The choice is yours. 

So I'm trying out this thing that I read in a book that tells me about how for 2 weeks when I find myself in a negative state of mind overcome by thoughts that corrode away at my very being, to stop everything that I am doing and take 30 seconds to reframe said thoughts in a positive light in order to reform my pattern of thinking towards certain situations so that I eventually become 'addicted' to positivism. 

Personally, I think it's a load of BS, but I also see no harm in trying it out.

Also, this video gets funnier every time I watch it.  

I think one of the comments made a very good point about how some people might be offended and consider this sexual harassment, like if a cop were around in America, maybe that guy would have been arrested or gotten a citation.... Yet, if you changed the genders and a woman were the one slapping the asses of the men in the same country, people would probably just laugh and be like 'Ok, yea, that was funny.' 

Personally, I think both scenarios are hilarious, but I was just trying to point out how sometimes liberalism does a disservice to society by striving to reach such stringent standards that are nice to hope for, but in reality, are unattainable (for example, a world without poverty) thus creating delusional, unrealistic expectations that force ridiculous protocols and policies on people. 

At the end of the day, men and women are different (I say this from a fundamental biological standpoint) and that's just fact. You need to accept it and move forward from there, but sometimes I feel like some 'feminists' take a couple steps back on behalf of their gender by trying to play down aforementioned differences and trying to get men to treat women like men, but in reality that is impossible. 

We recently hired a female engineer for our group and it amazes me how much better behaved and sociable the other guys in the office are now. There are a couple of senior guys who have never spoken to me or even acknowledged my existence, let alone walked on my side of the office the entire time I've worked there, but as soon as we hired this girl onto our team.. Surprise, surprise... guess who decides to show up and has taken a sudden interest in the smaller undertakings of us lowly entry-level employees ?? I've learned more about these men's personal lives and had more conversation with them in this past week while this girl has been here than I have in the past year. 

There is also this guy named Carl who cusses up a storm every meeting and loves to berate most of the guys about what worthless trashcans for human beings they are as far as the quality of work they produce is concerned, however we bring newly acquired female of the group to the weekly meeting and Carl is talking like he's the talk show host of Nickelodeon, extremely amiable and well-behaved. He even stops himself in the middle of, for the first time, tactfully giving one of our group members tips on how to improve the project he is working on, to directly address the girl and say with this fucking ridiculous smile that shows off all of his teeth, 'Oh, and by the way... If I say anything that offends you in anyway, please just let me know. You can ask these guys, I have a bad-boy reputation sometimes for being a real hardass, but I mean good, I really do....' 

I'm actually bothered by this more than amused because

A. In the entire time I've fucking been here, Carl has never smiled at any of us like that nor spoken in such a civil manner. What the fuck? Reverse discrimination much? 

B. Carl is like 50-60 years old and just called himself a bad-boy. 

Just last week the guy was looking at the lunch I brought in and saying 'What the fuck is that shit you're eating? No wonder you fucking look like a starved child whose parents never had the money to feed correctly, and why the fuck is it so fucking hot on this side of the office? Why the fuck isn't the AC on? They treating you guys that bad around here? I'd go slap the shit out of your manager if I was you. And jesus fucking christ, where the shit is my fucking fuck for brains shithead of a technician? Off fucking himself by sticking his head up his ass as usual? SOMEONE GET HIS ASS IN HERE AFTER YOU'RE DONE PULLING YOUR OWN HEADS OUT OF YOUR OWN ASSES!'

Why don't you talk to her like that huh, Carl? HUH?!?!

And I got mad.

What the fuck right did that monkey have to throw his shit at me? What had I done to that monkey? It pissed me off even more when I saw the joyful glee on the monkey's face when he saw how mad I had gotten from having gotten shit all over my face.

I got even angrier at this and my rising anger only rose the monkey's ecstasy that much further.

I knew I was going to do something stupid, so I took a slow, deep breath.

I felt the stench of the fecal matter flowing through my nostrils, so I tried to breath in my mouth instead. While my mouth was open, the monkey threw shit at me again, and was right on target, successfully giving me a taste of his dinner last night.

Upon seeing the sharp precision of the monkey, the other monkeys praised him for his fantastic arm and laughed at me for tasting shit.

The rage in me was boiling to the point of destruction. I felt my capacitance exceeded. By far. But I remembered past experiences with monkeys. I knew that further display of anger would only egg on the monkey to continue throwing shit at me day after day to piss me off,

Display of humor would result in the other monkeys assuming that I was strange, "Who thinks it's funny to have shit thrown at them?" which would then result in me being the go-to guy if you were a monkey and wanted to throw shit at someone.

Retaliation was out of the question. The monkey was without a doubt stronger than me. Despite being a dumb monkey, it could still rip me apart limb from limb were I to throw shit back at him and be fortunate enough to have it land on his face. No, no no. This was a very stupid monkey. The type that found humor inflicting pain onto others but found no humor and grew angry when pain was inflicted upon him. This was a monkey who was too stupid to learn any type of lesson. No matter how hard one would try to teach it.

I chose to simply walk away. I walked away from all of their laughter and jabbing comments. I walked away from the jungle where the monkeys lived.

I walked and walked and walked until I finally found civilization, the land without monkeys.

There, I met many other men, smart men, who had been driven to civilization because they were just like me, too smart to ignore stupidity and too weak to do anything about it. They were happy to have escaped the monkeys, but were despondent about their pasts. It just seemed so wrong to allow a lowly creature like a monkey treat you that way.

Of course, some of the men I met in civilization had never come from the jungle, so all they felt for monkeys was compassion, pity, and empathy as they so-called it. "Oh those poor monkeys are so innocent and kind!" "Monkeys just want to have a little fun!" "I don't understand what people have against monkeys!" "Just give a monkey a chance!"

Had they ever done the latter? Most likely not. And if so, it was most probably done in a safe, controlled environment where absolutely nothing could go wrong. If something did go wrong, you could always pause and see a director of civilization. Yes. They can handle everything. No worries.

But What say you when you're on a plane that is about to crash and there is one parachute left that either you or a monkey can use, and if both of you use the parachute (As I know some of you were probably thinking), you both will fall to your death? Who lives, who dies? Some of us have a little more honesty than others when it comes to our answer.

Elitists they were. Men who, though they could make powerful mental computations, failed at understanding the fundamental animalistic nature of things as they are, as life is. When someone has done you wrong, as a man, do you expect others to avenge you? Nay, the only one who should inflict vengeance is the vengeful.

So me and the few other men who had originated from the jungles worked together to have our due compensation. The weapon mason created guns and crossbows, the engineer created bombs, the biologist made disease, the chemist created napalm, the businessman created one-sided negotiation, and I brought pure, biased hatred.

Back to the jungle we all went. The businessman first.

He entered the jungle unafraid of the monkeys because he saw them for what they were, which was poor, and had no respect for such things in life just as he had no respect for dirt. He told the monkeys he would pay them each 3 bananas to leave the jungle. The monkeys, as stupid as they were, knew that 3 bananas to leave their home was a joke so they all shit on the ground and flung their poop at the businessman. The businessman smiled and said he would be back later with the same offer and left.

The chemist and engineer set up a fence around the jungle with one entrance/exit and proceeded to burn and nuke the entire jungle to the ground. Thousands upon thousands of monkeys were slaughtered and the ones that ran out of the jungle with their fur on fire were shot by the weapon mason and I. The weapon mason and I saw many monkeys trying to run away, men, women, children, seniors, but allthesame, they were just stupid, shit-flinging monkeys. We laughed with joyful glee as we saw the stupid monkeys flocking in line for us to mow them all down one by one. Eventually the corpse pile in front of the entrance became too great for other living monkeys to make their way into our target sight, so the chemist came by and set them all aflame to clear the way so the other monkeys could have their fair share of bullets and arrows. Other monkeys thought they could be clever to jump over the fence, but were quickly electrocuted into smoldering heaps of flesh.

The next day, the businessman went back to the jungle. There was a total of 800 monkeys remaining and he made the same proposal to them. Their fur was singed from the flames of yesterday, their eyes looked sunken from having had no sleep. Yet, they still stubbornly refused to leave their homes and threw shit at the businessman again. He smiled once again, and said he would be back.

The biologist clapped his hands together in joy upon hearing of the businessman's return and proceeded to fire disease bombs across the remnants of the jungle. Monkeys began retching for air. Gasping as if something was constricting their throats. Some suffocated trying to get a breath of fresh air, others died from ripping out their throats to get that breath. The biologist and chemist smiled proudly at their work. How many monkeys have we killed? They asked. 10 thousand? 20 thousand? 50 thousand? A hundred? A million?!? A billion?!?! Who knows! The possibilities are endless!

Surely, no other chemists or biologists in the world can boast such a large number?

The next day, the businessman returned to the jungle with a gas mask. There were a total of 8 monkey's remaining. These were the most strong-willed of all the clan who had managed to outsmart, outwit, out maneuver, and out-live the biologist, the engineer, the chemist, the weapon mason and I. They looked like they had not eaten in days and not slept for about the same. They looked up to see the approaching businessman and though primal rage sparked in the eyes of some, they were all too weak and too tired, and their stomachs too empty and too withered to produce any type of shit to be thrown at the man.

The businessman offered the 8 remaining monkeys 3 bananas each to leave their homes. A slow silence fell upon the ground. Quietly one by one, all but 1 monkey stepped up to the businessman and took 3 big, delicious-looking bananas from his hand. After handing over the 7 monkeys their bananas, he turned to the 8th monkey and asked, "Why don't you take my offer? Surely as stupid as you are, as narrow-minded of a creature as you may be, you should know that there is nothing left here for you to live for or stay for. You will leave anyway, so why would you refuse my offer?"

The 8th monkey's scornful-looking eyes welled up with tears and though he was too tired and too weak, and his stomach too empty and too withered to produce shit to throw as retaliation, the monkey pulled out his hand instead, stuck up his middle finger and said, "Fuck you." to the businessman. Upon seeing this, the businessman smiled a smile brighter than any smile he had ever smiled during his previous two visits. After taking in a slow, deep breath of his surroundings, the businessman turned around and left. He did not tell the monkey that he would return this time.

So the 6 of us gathered in the aftermath and we looked around to see what we had done. All around us was nothing but pure chaos and destruction. All around us were nothing but endless bodies of monkeys laid out on the smoking, charred ground. There were still some sad signs of life remaining, but we were in the works of fixing that.

So up went the Supermall that the businessman had been planning to build since day 1. Up it went on top of what used to be a beautiful jungle that had once housed generations and generations of monkeys in it. Upon seeing his old home turned into an materialistic institution, the one monkey, who had managed to refuse everything up until that point: The napalm, the bullets, the disease, and the bananas, made no exception, and refused to accept what men had done to him. He roared out in pure, savage fury at what had happened to his home, his family, his friends. And the memories! Oh, they wouldn't even let him keep the memories! The grounds where his daughter was born, the tree where he had first met his wife when they were but chimps, and the sun. God, the beautiful sun did not even shine after the mall had been built, for there was too much concrete standing in the way. An impressive mall indeed.

What heartless people would do such a thing? What lifeless creatures could have been behind such an atrocity? What had the monkeys ever done to man? Why? Why? Why? The monkey screamed loudly at the world. At no one. He swore on his life that he would have retribution on those that had inflicted such pain on his soul or die trying. Not just for himself, but for everyone that wanted to, but could not. For the thousands that had died to the napalm and bombs, to the hundreds who died gasping desperately for another breath of air, another moment in life, and the 7 who had nothing left now but burnt fur and 3 big, delicious-looking bananas.

And so he died trying.

But the 6 of us could have cared less. What can one monkey do? Probably the same thing a whole clan of monkeys can do: Nothing.

We were sitting on top of fortune and power and 80 pseudo-hookers, and all it took was a little ingenuity and teamwork. Something the monkeys would never possess.

What is pity? What is remorse? Were we cowards for using such means to defeat those that had once defeated us? Or were we geniuses for finding a way to defeat that which was once undefeatable? We 6 may have overreacted in a sense, but whose fault was it that we had a vendetta against monkeys other than the monkeys for giving us reason to have a vendetta?

Were we monsters? What is a monster? One that does monstrous things such as massacring an entire colony of monkeys? Then I suppose the 6 of us are monsters. And damn proud ones at that. Some dream of becoming monsters, others attempt and only achieve lower levels of demon-hood, while the rest simply fail outright and have nothing better to do than go back to dreaming. We were 6 men who had our dreams and fantasies since we were young; since we had lived in the jungle. And we had made all of our respective dreams come true. By being men.

We had all come from the jungle and it was only through such training that we were able to realize man and monkey for their differences. Amongst men, respect is earned and manners are a given. Amongst monkeys, respect is demanded and manners are nonexistent. Such creatures, to think that they think themselves on equal level to man, truly foolish. Just because things look similar does not mean that they are. We may breath the same air, eat the same food, and shit the same shit, but at the end of the day, you're a monkey and I'm a man. You live in the jungle while I live in civilization. You may be physically strong, but what is strength? How much does one have to lift in order to be impervious to the bombs and disease that the people such as myself create? Man is the monkey's kryptonite, and for good reason.

I've made the observation that my posts are becoming more and more self-absorbed and narcissistic. 

This is probably because I am becoming more self-absorbed and narcissistic. 

I'm going to go chew on my cat's ears.

I sit here idly staring at my screen attempting to muster up something creative and meaningful to write because my mind feels as if it is functioning like clockwork in both its formation of ideas and approach to issues. 

...

Nothing.

Though I consistently find myself believing that life is meaningless and nothing you do ultimately matters, I find myself in a constant battle between establishing a life of stability and tossing aside all responsibilities to recklessly pursue my pipedreams knowing full well that I am most likely destined to fail at the latter and fall into a deep depression fueled by regret and anger targeted towards my obviously stupid decision.

See, it seems you can either choose between sanity or madness. One providing you with the repetitive, simple patterns that do not demand large amounts of labor from the heart and mind, but ultimately leaving the bitter taste of ennui and isolation due to the fact that nothing in such a life requires large amounts of labor from the heart and mind causing you to yearn for the knowledge of where the sun shines while the moon drifts in your sky. Ultimately, the longer you deny yourself this desire to fulfill your desires, the harder it becomes because with time you become more and more entrenched in your mundane existence, attaching yourself emotionally to your surrounding not necessarily because you hold any sort of actual fondness towards it, but more likely due to the fact that you've become so familiar with the lifestyle that you fear losing this pattern that you've come to know so well like the back of your hand. Perhaps the next pattern could be better. But what if it's worse? What if it's worse? Consequently, as you sink deeper into your trench, you become engulfed in your hole, losing sight of the things around you until you begin to forget that you're a living, breathing, human being, capable of climbing yourself out of your hole at any time and this hole that you're in is no more your hole than the sky is your sky because you've been sitting under it for so long. It's just dirt, but to you after all that time, it's something more because you've known it for so long. 

Chaos and adventure on the other hand provide extreme stimulation. Too much stimulation. So much to the point that it destroys you, eats away at you and your mind leaving you feeling empty and dead when the excitement is gone, leaving you to realize that in the end, we are all alone in this world. The vision of the void is toxic because it is the antimatter of the magic that fuels you, so it causes you to jump from place to place with complete disregard for the past and responsibilities in search of another new experience, something different, something to help you engulf yourself in denial a little longer, something to help you outrun the truth a little faster because if you don't, you can feel the tendrils of emptiness slowly creeping up behind you, trying to wrap themselves around your ego slowly, gently, before squeezing down and crushing every bone in your mind leaving only the crumpled remains of yourself, as you really are, to marvel at what a [...] you actually are, no different from the rest of the animals living on the planet, yet believing that when you look in the mirror you see otherwise.

Where down the line did I make a wrong turn without realizing it in order to find myself in this strange place, which is in no way similar to the destination I had in mind?

If I write something philosophical, I sound pretentious.

If I write something creative, I sound unimaginative.

If I talk about my own life, I sound ordinary.

What is there left to talk about? Nothing.

I just want to make noise and have people listen, but not have it be judged as good or bad, compared to others, compared to myself.

That's impossible, so instead I'll sing my song of nature, beauty, and nonsense in my shrill, hag-voice while I decide when exactly I should ditch my current career path to live out my life as a tragic, lifelong-aspiring opera singer. Fuck you.

but if you're too smart, you're labeled insane, treated like a diseased leper.  

So don't become too smart to the point that others cannot understand you, or at the very least, play dumb enough that they do. 

And emotions. They are like... A handicap in the sense that you're unable to make consistent, rational decisions, but without them, you wouldn't have an interesting life... However, if you didn't have an interesting life and had no emotions as well, you wouldn't regret banality or miss it excitement. Only in the non-robotic state which you are currently in could you hold distaste towards what lies on the other side, but stepping over in itself would eliminate any and all forms of fear, nostalgia, and desire. 

An alternative route versus cutting yourself short would be to develop and master communication skills so you can better convey your ideas across to other people and also become more receptive towards the ideas they try to get across to you despite their lacking the necessary ability to effectively do so because you are now capable of artfully compensating.

As one of the only guys in the family who display any sort of compassion for the rest of his family, I get invited out to dinner with my sisters and other cousins. 

Being the only guy at this giant table surrounded by 8 other beautiful girls, any other guy would probably be envious and think to himself 'Wow, that fucking lucky sonofabitch, how the fuck did he end up taking all of those girls out to dinner? How? How? WHYYYYY?!?!?'

I on the otherhand, am not so gleeful about the position I am in. I feel awkward and powerless being the only man in a family full of women that adore Kim Kardashin and that cheating bitch from Twilight. 

I recollect many years ago when I was younger how many of my peers and sisters' male friends would give me endless shit about how much they wish they were me in some sick twisted non-brotherly love way which made me develop extremely confused feelings due to the mixture of both disgust and pride. 

Today, I see all of these women jabbering back and fourth about a bunch of nothing as they usually do... No wonder I avoid these dinners nowadays...

As the check rolls in, I swiftly grab at it and toss my credit card along with it. This is the part I hate the most about being grown up. It has nothing to do with me covering the check for the money, but it has everything to do with me being the only guy. 

You see, if I do pick up the check, the older girls in my family feel strange feelings about their younger sibling paying for their meal. If I don't pick up the check and split it, the younger siblings wonder why the grown up guy at the table with a full-time job isn't paying for the meal like every other man that eats out with them. It's just this entire clusterfuck of old eastern values clashing with new western ones that I hate having to deal with and face, so in the end, I take the easier route, I just grab at the bill and throw my card into the little black book and shove that shit back into the waiter's hand to charge the fuck out of it. GO. Take it. QUICKLY!

Despite my attempts to keep the turbulence at a bare minimum, one of my older sisters still feels the need to speak up. She asks me 'Why are you paying? What are you, rich now or something?' in a mocking tone, to which I respond, 'Of course not, I'm just being nice.' with this fake smile plastered onto my face. 

When the card comes back, she grabs at it and with a smirk says 'What is this card? I've never seen it before. Do you think you're cool or something?' 

I never did like this one. She reminded me the most of my dad, never happy unless there were problems to point out.

I ignore her statement and sign the check doing some quick math in my head. She then leans over and says to me, loud enough for everyone to hear, 'You didn't tip enough. You're supposed to pay double the tax. The service was good.' 

Indeed, she is correct. If 17.5% is what I was supposed to tip, then I was certainly a cheapskate by tipping the 15%. I scratch off the $20 and write in $24, yes, 4 extra dollars.... And then erase and rewrite the total at the bottom just to get this crazy woman to stop hounding me. 

After dinner, we all go out, the other cousins are happy that I bought them dinner. They keep trying to engage me in conversation, jump onto my back, ask me what I want so they can buy it for me, but I am just burnt out at this point. I hate it. I wish I could be my energetic self and have a real smile and a real good time, but I'm just tired. I want to go home and just drink. 

...

I think the others can tell I am not feeling like my usual self. They decide to call the night to an early end, I give every one a hug then walk back towards my apartment. 

On the way there, I see a store and though I know I should not drink, I decide to anyway. Lulz. I grab two 12-packs and head out of the store. As I am walking, a group of girls within a questionable age range see me and shout me down asking me where the party is.

Now if these were older looking girls, I might have told them something along the lines of 'The party is in my bedroom and you're all formally invited, wink wink.' but unfortunately, we all know that if they were older, they also wouldn't be shouting me down asking where the party is because they'd already have parties to go to. 

Alas, I turn down the lasses but they continue to follow me down until finally sergeant square goes full blast and tells these bitches, 'There ain't no party yo, I'm just drinking these 24 beers by myself because I'm an alcoholic so go home! BLAH BLAH BLAH (WHY CAN'T YOU GUYS BE OVER 18 OR AT LEAST LOOK IT FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK.)'

These girls are like 'Yea, that's cool, let's just go kick it then.' AND I AM LIKE LOLING inside, ACTUALLY, I'm crying at this point. BUT SOMETHING INSIDE ME TELLS ME THAT THIS IS JUST WRONG. WRONG WRONG WRONG. DAMMIT. WHY IS IT WRONG? IT WAS ALRIGHT FOR A 40 YEAR OLD BARBARIAN TO MARRY A 12 YEAR OLD TRIBE LEADER'S DAUGHTER BACK IN 1000 AD WHY THE FUCK CAN'T A 24 YEAR OLD JUST HANG OUT AND HAVE SWEET, INNOCENT FUN WITH A 15-17(?) YEAR OLD WITHOUT FEARING SERIOUS JAIL TIME? THEIR MINDS ARE ALREADY POLLUTED AND TOXIC DUE TO THE MASS MEDIA ANYWAY. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

So yea, I finally shake them off and walk back to my place with a lot of alcohol. I pop the brews into the fridge, grab one out and pop it open then light a cigarette. Slowly, I proceed out onto the balcony as my cat follows behind me, then I look out into the moon and let off a sad, lonely howl like a sad, lonely coyote.... AWWOOOOOOO! 

Successfully scaring the shit out of my cat as she jumps away and looks at me bewildered with this, 'Nigga, da fuck is your problem?' look on her face. 

I feel like I did the right thing, but I also feel like if Nietzsche were alive today, he would slap me in the face and say, "Bro, have you never read my masterful work of art called 'Beyond Good and Evil'? I break that shit down like a boss explaining why there is no right or wrong and why it is completely, absolutely, totally the right thing to copulate with underaged  bitches."

I rub my hand against my cheek, trying to numb the fresh pain... With tears in my eyes, I try to form a coherent rebuttal, 'B-b-but N-nietzche! They were just children! Foolish children trying to break into a dark world to satisfy their egos and pride!'

At that point, he'd just look at me and proceed to shake his head in disgust then say, 'You disgust me. You seriously disgust me. I can't even look at you. And you call yourself a man? BAH!' then he'd disappear in a puff of celestial smoke leaving me there with a giant red-ghost-handprint on my face and an almost burnt out cigarette in my mouth and a confused looking cat at my feet wondering why she ended up with such a psychotic owner. 

I hope I'm doing the right things in life. 

This is what I had to say: