Delusions

I wonder are you proud, cowering beneath the stairs as an unseen foe that you probably just made up walks the halls and keeps you from poking your privileged head out and seeing what the world actually looks like beyond your cute little corner with a comfy chair and a TV that only shows the McDonald's channel.  You hide from the truth, or pretend not to see it with its chewed up styrofoam cup jingling with what to you might as well be pocket lint because you're as likely to lose it between the cushions of your world as you are to get any use out of it, or you say that you don't want to make things worse as an excuse to refuse to make anything better, or you just flat out deny it by turning tragedies into numbers.  Drink the poison and eat the masks and pretend you live somewhere you don't and maybe the truth will go away.  The lie is better anyway.