Mountainous

I guess I should be glad that last month I was drenched in boiling acid, stung all over my body by more than a thousand fierce killer bees, and dipped to my thighs in molten lava. In retrospect I can almost see how the intense pain I suffered then, have suffered since, and will continue to suffer forever has given me an exciting and less naive outlook. I see the world now as it really is: a twisted and evil place where justice plays no role, where good people who work hard to make things better are just as likely to be crushed in the hands of fate as anyone else. Knowing what I know now, would I really want to back to the way things were two months ago, when I stumbled unknowingly through existence, a moronic smile plastered on my face, my brain oblivious to the real nature of the universe?
If I press the morphine button enough, I can remember my day, that day, with ease. And let me tell you, I regret my own innocence almost as much as I regret being in the steel plant next to the honey factory on what everyone thought was just a regular mountain. In fact, I regret it more, sometimes.
Other times, though, the thick frosting of pain and misery that accompanies my every action makes me regret nothing but being unable to sneak quietly into heaven and throttle God.
"The bees!" I would shout as I throttled.
"The acid!"
"The lava!"