I am just an animal living within social norms. There are things I can’t do but my body wants me to. There are things that I don’t want to do but have to, because without me this illusion crumbles. We are all trapped on earth. When we finally break free I will not be alive to enjoy it. Far past my expiration date, like milk gone sour from neglect. It’s fine though; nothing I do helps me leave this rock. All I contribute is my matter. Broken down after death and old age into soil, then to rock, and then to metal. I want to litter space with my waste. Shit floating till the end of the cosmos.

But this is where the story changes. Just like the rest of the flimsy things in this universe, my solution is simple, the answer is in my head. Truth caked in morality, obscured besides shape. What’s real, but painted one too many times over. False gods and fake followers. Taste, touch, smell, hear and fuck the world around me. Turn my cage into a lock box. Fill it with hedonistic trinkets and knickknacks. Do what I want. Then die, and become a part of the chaotic universe once more.