Others, and these are the type which (yes, which – I can’t consider them any more than sacks of flesh: nothing ‘personable’ about them) I can’t stand, need their devastation to help them forget about their pasts: they need it as a distraction. These people will hyperbolise every little event in their shallow little lives to make out that every action which they undertake is somehow self-derelicting and how every action undertaken by others unto them is with the sole end of derelicting them. These are the people who repress their less favourable memories and instead choose to focus on their abundant ‘negatives’ they fathom from the recesses of clearly idle minds; rather than dealing with the aforementioned true negatives. These are the people who make the temporary infinite and strip the temporal of any concept of meaning, no matter how fleeting. These people cling onto their fallacies to prevent themselves from having to deal with their undesirable realities: these people relentless lie to themselves and have no way to stop themselves.

These people become their own sense of self-imposed devastation. These people devastate me.