Crammed

Dear Diary,
The feeling of the age, trust. Looming over our heads, do I trust them? Do I trust myself?
I read a good passage about it, how trust doesn’t come easy-
Though what if it never came at all. What if all of humankind was simply untrustable? To think, every word, a lie. Every thought, fake. For me it’s not that hard to imagine. Everyone trapped in their own fragile minds, with no escape? How would they, or should I say we, even know the truth? Let alone speak of it? I think we are all liars because this whole world was built on them. So we feed on fables, and frenzy about imaginary problems. Huh... it doesn't matter really, because it always going to be a choice of right or wrong that determines a lie in a person’s eyes. Question is: Can you even believe me?

Night D!