Demented Person

Schopenhauer once said: The world we live in depends mainly on how we view it. Pain feels real, and the true standard of happiness is the absence of pain. I wrote these two sentences in my diary countless times, and then faced the unmitigated pain. I looked at the endless sky and asked myself countless times "Why do I think this is pain?" "If I didn't know what other people were like, would I be able to accept it all without reservation. And then write I don't suffer such pathetic self-consolation?" Unfortunately, the existence of pain and happiness itself is in a system of constant comparison, and I have no way of knowing. Like I don't know what the future is going to be like. I can only be sure of one thing, that I will die.