Maybe it doesn't really exist

I've been wondering about intentions. Do people actually want what they claim they want or is there this whole other side to it in which we just can't be honest at all? What's real and what isn't is a massive blur based on what the perpetrator is hiding. So... it's the question of my belief in happiness I suppose.
I'm just really concerned about art. And to further that, I'm concerned that it's existence has really ended now. I feel a little down but it's really normal. There's a constant bargaining between having thoughts and being able to admit you may be the only one having those thoughts. Like this.. I guess.
I watch a short film about "artists" and life like actions, and coming of age and all that jazz that we read in high school. It's easy listening, but do people like these characters exist. So I figure they must because it's hard to create something of thin air and call it a reflection of the world today. Right?
Maybe it's not the end of an era but it's a very very weird time.
And a weird place.

And I think it's time for me to go somewhere else or just sleep longer hours and go veggie and be trendy in a non trendy forum.

Or just go somewhere else. And watch a movie.