Life on the pedestal

We're a bunch of losers. Goldfish crackers and Ritalin. In a way, I find it to be pathetically funny. We are blinded by our ignorance to see that we are just as bad as the lies we eat and the lies we feed to the next, in hopes of some social accomplishment. I could quite possibly be the poster child to say our near meaningless existence is equivalent to the most corrosive acid I can think of. With precision-cut remarks, intoxicatingly sweet enough to dissolve to any cavity, sending a blinding pain to the root of the tooth, because we are all just so morally correct here up on the pedestal. Am I the only one who's skin begins to burn as they witness an oozing matching set of, "Oh my gosh, no you're so pretty!" *cue decibel melting shrill*. If I took anything away from the premiering years of our lives, it was in fact that if you're not soul-crushingly obedient to thy neighbor then you're going to hell, right? Well this only applies when there is a genuine adoration between two (like that happens anymore) not when they're just another kill above the mantle.