Blood, pain, sweat, tears, is that what the world is about? What are we doing in it? What is the point? We seem to wonder around aimlessly, not caring, not thinking, and not doing what we want. There is never a hint of light around the corner, all I can see is the dark, the never ending dark, the sounds in the background, the wailing, the screams. Yet I still consider myself sane. I’m still together, travelling in this cesspool just like the rest of us.

I keep thinking, seeing, doing, and marching on with my life. The interruptions of thought more frequent, I get them all the time now, didn’t happen before, but now they appear, now I see, now I can see what others do not. Am I going mad, no, I’m not, well not just me. We keep on walking, talking, walking into oblivion with innocent eyes, like sheep to the slaughter.

I sometimes think I have a little demon inside of me. You can’t quantify him, he’s always trapped. He walks around in his own realm, the realm of screams, the realm of pain, the realm of suffering, always talking to himself, always a smile on his face, always the smile, one which is out of place. His eyes are almost black, the pupils dilated, the eyes hiding something cold, calculating, unnerving.

When we were kids, we were told that the world was perfect, people couldn’t get hurt, and people didn’t hurt one another, people played by the rules. When we grow into adults, the world isn't perfect, people hurt one another with no remorse, and we learn never to play by the rules.