Light Fiction

ridiculous term. i sit and i think and i am private. except that nothing that i think about is private.
“man is a social animal” -aristotle
even when living wholly for myself i desire other people. i don’t even know what purpose i serve anymore. i used to think that people who knew gradually became better people. i think that the opposite has become true, and almost the only thing that i care about (outside of pure pleasure-based pursuits) is being a good influence/helping people. i’m not sure if i can stand this semi-recent change in perspective. or reality. you know, whatever… fuckit.