Pathos

I can't figure out why I feel so much guilt. It doesn't seem beneficial to myself or the people around me. This guilt seems to ooze out of every orifice and engulf my thoughts. This brings about regret, sadness, and more guilt. Why can't I be allowed to be happy, even if it's only for a second? Now I know I often get caught-up in comparing, but am I the only one who feels this way? I mustn't be.
Now this guilt is not over ordinary things. Extraordinary guilt is all that overwhelms me because everyone who is sane would feel bad if they opened their door into another's and didn't tell them. Or if they forgot to feed their pets one night. These things are far from the truth. The ground I shuffle my feet on evokes a burden on my conscious. The little pleasure I live for day to day, things that don't affect anyone but myself are my poison.

Lie. Lie to me, if only I need to hear the answer. Strangely I don't feel the same about lies. I think they are essential to, well, everything. A lie hurts only if the truth is revealed. A rarity in my world. A lie is a way to escape, not the grasps of work, but the straight world in which everyone believes everything and everyone. Such blatant ignorance deserves only the most flagrant lies. I don't lie to hurt, but I hurt to lie. I feel this compulsion to see what I can make people believe. I know there is a word for this, but I don't consider myself one of these. I look at it like hunting; the hunt is exhilarating and pure euphoria, but once you go to claim your kill, the rush diminishes. Although my armory consists of mostly little "white lies", I don't hesitate if the occasion beckons otherwise. Lie if you have to, lie if you need to, but I can honestly say I lie because I like it.