Once you realize the cold, hard truth – that no one, and I mean, no one gives a shit about you, life gets so much easier. No more conflict. No more expectations being dashed. No more hurt feelings. No more trying to convince anybody of anything. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck it all. Then you just go about your life doing your thing totally free. Sure, you yourself care about others, which kind of puts the kibosh on this theory, but you just ignore that fact and keep on keeping on. Occasionally, you have a meaningful and even beautiful encounter with another, but you know that it must remain brief and that you must move on before expectations begin to develop, fucking up the whole thing. And this is how you live until you die. Happy and free. Sartre was right: Hell IS other people, but he should have qualified that with Hell is other people with long-term proximity, obligations or expectations. Because, damn, sometimes other people are heavenly.