By Samuel Hawthorne

April 23, 2025

Everyone says the same thing when something goes wrong: it’s fate. It’s all part of some grand plan that we’ll never understand. They say life is unfair, that people are cruel, and that some things are just meant to be. I used to believe that too.

But then everything fell apart, and I realized the world isn’t so neat. The cruelty of fate isn’t some cosmic joke—it’s a mask for how humans are just as capable of betrayal as they are of kindness. And as for laziness? Well, that’s the only thing I can trust anymore. At least laziness doesn’t lie to you. It doesn’t promise you anything.

It wasn’t always like this. I used to trust. I used to believe in the good in people, in the promises we made to each other. But somewhere along the way, I lost my mind. And along with it, I lost my heart.

The world became too loud after that. Every sound, every word, felt like it was being screamed in my ear. The laughter of others, the hopeful stories, the encouragement—none of it felt real anymore. All those things, those fleeting moments of happiness, faded into the background, and I became numb.

I kept trying to hold on. I wanted to believe in something again, but every time I reached out for it, it slipped through my fingers like sand. You can’t trust something that constantly changes, constantly deceives. And I couldn’t understand how people could be so confident in their ability to trust when everything I had ever believed in had shattered around me.

I suppose, in the end, that’s the irony of it all. You lose your mind, your heart, your hope—and then you’re left with nothing. Not even the energy to fight for something you don’t believe in. So, I stopped. I stopped trying to make sense of it. I stopped asking why.

Now, I just exist. I watch the world spin by, full of people holding on to the same delusions that I once had. And every day, I wonder: Why should I trust again? When everything I’ve ever believed in has crumbled, and when the truth is just as elusive as it’s always been.