It's a bug inside you. You are human, you can have bugs. You think it is normal to have filthy bugs that tell you, what you need to be told. Because you like to be told. You accept to be told. You want to be told. It is easier to be told instead of to tell . To tell, to tell the truth, is a cross, not many can bear. Then you know that your life is wild. That you love side-paths, dark back-alleys. Oh, I practice the ignominy of vice! You cry out. And you feel you are happy, you feel that you are living, but you are dying instead. You are bloody dying, instead. You are opening up to life but dark life, but you think it is real life, but it is not, you are dying to light. Like a noxious insect. You are a human being without light. An insect. Like the insect installed inside you, from the beginning when you signed the contract saying "Yes" instead of "No". That "Yes" tickled the insect lust, that you accepted to be installed in you. A lust that deceived ...