I looked just a bit closer into the room. It was very dark, enough that I had to feel it and smell it in the air before I could see it. But there it was, staring. At what, I didn't know. I turned to face the direction of the body's interest--or, rather, what would be its interest had it been alive.
I saw blood. Rich, bright, shimmering, blood. Most people would use these words for something more "important", something like money. I for one didn't care for money, or the people who relied on it. I managed to find happiness without assistance. I did have a very twisted sense of happiness, some people told me. But it worked. Never failed me, not like anyone elses' clearly did. Those same people who were always buying things in hope of it curing their boredom, depression, whatever their problem might be. And it still didn't work. I never understood why they tried, over and over. That's true insanity, right there. Repeating something, countless times, expecting a different outcome. Why not just try something else? I guess some people can settle for mediocre. If you hadn't guessed, I'm not one of those people.