I feel like I'm going insane. But how can I be sure. Is there some sort of insanity standard that I can look up in a book to see if I qualify? Do I have to pull out my hair and scream strange things to people I've never meant? Insanity to me is a break from reality, and while I've always considered myself to be a very realistic person, everyone around me appears to uphold a reality very different from my own conception. Thus, is reality defined by the status quo or by truth, whether or not that truth appears before the eyes of the masses? Let me now interupt this pseudo-philsophical rant to explain to the reader that none of this is truely important to me because I've never been a person known to classify. Classification allows for approximation and generalization and these words (which are in themselves classifications of ideas and thus victims of their own meanings) have only lead to confusion and misconceptions of the people's "reality" in the past, and will continue to do so in the future. Yet I digress, and I'm going to have to ask the reader that he or she endure these disgressions because digression will occur frequently within my writing. They are the result of the fashion in which I communicate, nothing cohesive or structured, but rather a jumbled mess of ideas that are a window to the plum pudding of thoughts within my brain. So much thinking can give someone a headache but if that is the only price I have to pay for living my life with my mind as open as my eyes, then it is a price I will gladly pay, as I am sure countless other individuals have paid in the past, present and future. However, saying that a head pain was the only price paid for my nature is not only naive but completely absurd since the true result of my headwork is probably one of the harshest prices any person can pay. For at least a year, I have not been happy. Hapiness for me comes in small sample-sized spoon fulls which are quickly consumed and digested. While I'm still not completely sure that my stupidity (for I am almost completely sure that I am a fool and that I will continue to be one, evolving from one high calorie, non nutritional mindset to the next, until my death) is the cause of my sadness, I can be sure that both exist. They are two of the most powerful forces driving my life. However the question I have to ask myself is where are these forces driving me to? Yet, for now, the duties of my assumed life (the one where I get an "education", which will later cater to my employment, until I have enough money from that employment to buy a television which I will watch until I am contentfully locked in a rectangular box and dropped into a six foot hole, having lived a life of conquest rather then of progress, and died knowing that I only lived so that I could ultimately perish) call to me and so I must suspend this discourse until the next moment where my time is my own.