Happily for me, ninety-nine percent of all human life is spent simply repeating the same old actions, speaking the same tired clichés, moving like a zombie through the same steps of the dance we plodded through yesterday and the day before and the day before. It seems horribly dull and pointless-but it really makes a great deal of sense. After all, if you only have to follow the same path every day, you don't need to think at all. Considering how good humans are at any mental process more complicated than chewing, isn't that the best for everybody?

And what did you do last night, Dexter? Oh, I played with my dolls while a friend chopped up my sister.

It was clear to me that it wouldn't matter what I did - they would never truly appreciate me or learn what I had to offer. They were far beyond fickle - they were insensible, like kittens,predatory little things, distracted by the first bit of string or shiny bauble that rolled across the floor, and nothing I could ever say or do could possibly make any kind of dent in their willful ignorance.

Life's only obligation, afterall, was to be interesting.

I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?

I had become a perfect fake human, saying the stupid and pointless things that humans say to each other all day long.

Why bother inflicting enormous pain on yourself when sooner or later Life would certainly get around to doing it for you?