Realism is a luxury

A luxury that you can't buy with money, it's rare among the rich, or the poor; in fact it's rare among people. It needs an extremely open mind, and costs one's fluffy conception of life and humanity, of oneself and those beloved. Nature is ugly. Human nature is ugly. But we can't see that ugliness behind a smile, behind the image in the mirror, behind beauty, comfort, wellbeing, love; underneath them all lie brutal imperfection and foul desires, dressed up and polished for appearance in front of delusional minds. It is unsafe and perhaps unhealthy to look at the world for what it is, maybe that is why we create this distorted filter that leaves out truths, or maybe we are created with it. Once this filter is gone one is left with nothing, understands nothing, cherishes nothing, however, it gives him the position to see the bright side of nothingness. The truth to real happiness, for example, is nothing. Sadness, by consequence, is irrelevant.

But our delusions are strong, our minds are weak, the influences are strong and truth is frankly undesirable. That is why I call realism a luxury, because true realism is an impossibility.