I’m having a happy time in my happy place. Having a happy time, having a happy time, in my happy place, my happy place, I tell myself, trying my best to believe it. I’m having a happy time in my happy place only not really. I’m having a happy time only that’s a lie. That’s a big lie. Everything is always a lie with me. That guy is a bit of a liar, people always say of me, a bit of a charlatan, a bit of a phony. A bit of an old fake. I spend a lot of time pretending to be great but everyone knows I’m not. It’s written all over my face. We all like to dream of better things of course; we’re all alike in that respect. We like to dream, we like to dream. Reality can be an awful strange place to hang out in when you’re totally unfamiliar with it – that’s one thing I’ve come to learn. It can freak the shit right out of you. You might think you’ll like it but I’ve a feeling you won’t! We all have these romantic notions about reality, so many romantic notions, but they are all fantasies that we’re running in our heads. Quaint really, isn’t it? It’s so quaint the romantic notions we have about reality – how wide of the mark we are,  how very wide. Fantasies about reality, huh? But I thought it was this, I say. But I thought it was that. I thought it was yellow with purple spots, I thought it was pink with wavy green lines all over it! It’s all such shit, isn’t it? In my own mind I’m a really nice guy – you’ll never meet a nicer fella. Charming, urbane, well-informed. I’m well-intentioned too. No bad thoughts. I’ve got it all going for me – in my mind, that is. Such a treacherous beast, the mind. You can’t rely on the bugger. Reality can be a very cruel place when it comes down to it. It can be diabolically cruel. Cruel and strange. Strangely cruel. I’m nice, but I’m also ruthless when it comes to my enemies; when someone crosses me then that’s it – I won’t rest until I’ve evened the score. That doesn’t mean that I’ll say something straightaway though – I’ll wait for years for my chance if necessary, my chance to get even. Don’t get mad get even, that’s my motto. There’s no point in me getting mad because I don’t have the physical strength to back it up. I’m very weak, physically speaking and I’m also something of a coward. I’m afraid of being hit. I’m terrified of being hit. I’m not afraid of everything mind you, only some things. A lot of things it’s true, but not all things. I’m not afraid of the things I make up myself in the safety of my own mind, which I call the ‘safe things’. The safe things are okay. I know that they’re not going to harm me because I created them myself and I didn’t endow them with the property of being harmful. That’s not a capacity they have. I created my very own private universe according to my own highly specific specifications and then I booted it up in ‘safe mode’. That’s a little joke of mine, by the way – I’m not totally without a sense of humour, you see. I do like to have my little joke, from time to time. People don’t think I’m funny but I am. I’m funny when you get to know me. I’m funny, but I’m also totally ruthless when it comes to anyone who might make the mistake of crossing me.