Where is my personal Plot?

Lives flow with ever-hidden ease, like that of molases.
Truth is right in front of me, not even waiting to be looked for.
But I search for the truth, which I don't find, because it doesn't exist and
it is sitting right in front of me.
"What a lousy plot," I tought to myself as the apocolypse seemed far distant.
I was't really looking foreward to anything.
I wasn't waiting or hoping for anything at all.
And that's just what I got.