They

Who made up all the rules, we follow them like fools

Believe them to be true, don't care to think them through.

And I'm sorry, so sorry, I'm sorry it's like this.

I'm sorry, so sorry, I'm sorry we do this.

And it's ironic too, cuz what we tend to do

is act on what they say and then it is that way.

Who are they and where are they

and how can they possibly know all this?

Do you see what I see? Why do we live like this?

Is it because it's true that ignorance is bliss?

~Watched "Stranger Than Fiction" last night, and got to wondering. We're all characters in our own little lives, but how accurately do we see our world? If we had a narrator following us around, would we have our own "Little does he know..." moments? Are we the comic relief, the plunky hero, or are we really Harold Crick, Michael Scott? How much do we trust other beings when we have no real way of judging their real intentions? The people who seem to pick up friends like I pick up lint-do they know some secret I don't, are they impervious to distrust, or do they simply not care about emotional osmosis? They erect their walls deep inside, and only the barest of feeling travels from them to others? 

Let's say we all had our own narrator following us around-let's be real literal and call it our conscience. Should we trust them... or are they leading us to our doom? Or even if they are.... if there's a just God, then we must all have a purpose, and maybe our ultimate end doesn't seem grim, but poetic, and brave.