What is truth? The opposite of lies.
What is right? The opposite of wrong.
Why do we spend endless minutes of a rapidly discriminating life, trying to determine empirical convictions?

I sit at this seat, contemplating yet another triviality, wrapped in wit. I say yet another because it seems to have become the presentation of the startling profession which is soon to be mine.
Mine, because I have chosen it how it is, 'different'. Not for me is the mundane jobs with their mundane cubicles in mundane buildings, dressed in mundane suits. I am different, I tell myself.

I am a dreamer, a thinker and in moments of narcissim I hide even from myself. I am a visionary. I feel pity for the mentally downtrodden, moving in temporaltimidity, never knowing the sheer fight that the mind can take.

I'm free.