Everything around me is controlled, everyone but me has a time machine and they relive the past and make fun of my stupidity, especially that one time I fell down the up escalator, there are voices inside my head that tell me different things, they all sound different. One of them sounds like John Lennon, another sounds like Obama, I'm not sure where all the other voices come from or who they belong too, but I'm sure it'll come to me eventually. Everything is a conspiracy. The chocolate bar in your hand, the iDevices we're all so joyously using, my teacher, science, my t-shirt. It's all nothing in the end. Then again, what are we? Can we ever really be sure? We all know the meaning of life is 42, but will it ever get better? No one can fully grasp the concept in the first place.