Nothing else to worry about now.
Nothing else to talk about now.
Nothing else to care about now.
I've turned careless.
I feel hopeless when I think about it...
And even if I'm wrong... I'm still miserable.
Yourself hates you, so it means you must hate everybody
now.
I know what's wrong.
How can I tell what's real and what's not?
Everything looks the same... Sounds the same... Smells the
same...
Since it's a creation of my mind, technically I'm just
asking myself now.
And does it matter? I can live the illusion.
As long as it makes sense my mind lets it go on. So I have
to make it not make sense... I have to re-define everything,
to reboot myself.
So for now, I know nothing is real. I'm talking to myself
now... None of you readers are real. Even if you talk to me
and try to make this story making sense, my mind will
believe you.
I need to make this delusion not make sense...
I have to reach a point where I can trick my mind.
It's not real, therefor it's meaningless.
I want meaning!

Why?
No reason.