Why is it that most everything lies?

I woke from a sharp breeze under my covers. How? My window fastenings are fastened hard shut and I’ve no cracks in the floorboards, do I? Eerily fantastical, temperamental emotions and faux feelings. I grew too well to know the falsehood of man and now it haunts me. All too warily I attempt ease at life, but it’s never easy and shouldn’t be. Without challenge we would all become bored and venomous. Seeking thrill in terrible places, where thrill aught not to be sought.

Perhaps I was just dozing with malice intent buried in the recesses of my cavernous mind. Perhaps I was trying to frighten myself for no good cause. The mind plays petty tricks on you, as do your eyes in the dark. Forming creatures and cretins so disfigured and truly woeful. Is it to keep me on my toes? Is it to warn me of dangers yet to pass? Is it just some sick silent fantasy of mine to be exhausted beyond all reconciliation, only to find pleasure in pain?

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