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Rants and lies

It's interesting how I cannot bring myself to write a story, but still can rant away in a blog. Talking about ourselves never seems to tire us. In fact, I could talk about myself for hours, for days, for my entire life. All the same, I can't bear it when people rant about themselves and not about me. Particularly because I know that people who talk endlessly about themselves usually do it out of self-promotion or self-abuse, making up lie after lie. Not that I'm untruthful. I'm talking about other people, remember? Besides, I've read somewhere - I never remember my sources - that about half of what people say is a lie. And in order to lie to others, first we have got to lie to ourselves. Amazingly, we do believe in our lies. It also said that depressed people can assess situations with more accuracy than people who are in good terms with life. Now that's depressing. I mean, we'll never see life how it really is until we get depressed. In a way, it's better. Or there wouldn't be books nor people buying them. After all, they're but a bunch of lies wrapped up in a fantastical world.

I hope I'll never "get real"!