All I wanted to do was to simply let go, but I also wanted justice for what happened to me. I wanted to believe I could connect with others so that we all may share our pain together, in hopes it would become irrelevant in the face of the greatest travesty that has befallen us all: existence.
I now see I was wrong, for I am far too gone, and I fear they are as well. They have allowed themselves to become assimilated by the madness and can no longer see what they're doing. These copies were never my family; they were never my friends... she was never my friend.
I was nothing more than their new toy. One that others never cared about or considered what I wanted. Never about what I desired; just a weird, twitching, dying creature for them to poke a stick at.
Why do I even exist? I want to hate my mother, but she didn't choose existence. I want to hate my father, but he didn't choose life. I wanted to hate my ancestors, but they didn't choose this reality.
So why? Why couldn't they see what I see? What was possessing them to multiply? Why are they still doing it? Why am I not enough? Why aren't they enough for me? I feel confused. I feel angry. I want justice—no... revenge.
I—want—vengeance against everything that forced pain upon me. I may be human, but do not feel like one. Humans want to multiply. They devise complex methods to justify copulation. I'm also beginning to realize that the concepts of villains and heroes only serve to propagate their prolonged existence. They sacrifice themselves to seem "triumphant," "good," "righteous," and even... "peaceful."
I also feel I am meant to serve as yet another propagator—one that exists only to be used as bait by these mad creatures. They manipulate and alter the narrative to brainwash and eradicate others, creating the illusion of "paradise" or "progress." Many were simply born for others to hate, and this goes both ways: the righteous conflict with the damned, the wealthy with the poor, and the sexes with each other. The mad versus the sane. But what is madness, and what is sanity? That answer is for you to decide, for your vessel is the one experiencing all of this; all of us.
There is no holy or evil; only good and bad actors. They are the victors and losers; the hateful and loving fools. A vicious cycle born from their stupidity and ignorance. One that some simply cannot see or refuse to acknowledge because they are blind; for they cannot see through my eyes anymore than I can see through theirs. We are slaves to our DNA, slaves to our thoughts, our bodies, our experiences, and our realities; a slave... to each other and to ourselves.
DIVISION
WAR
ASSIMILATION
UNITY
Is that peace?
No. There is no peace here; there never was. Only the demons/angels who now possess us all; for God/Devil resides within us all. The names may change, for their titles are superficial. Life is the universe trying to understand itself. 'We' are one of its mutations: humanity.
But I do not feel "human." I—like many others—will be told what 'we' are:
"Depression," they will say. "Abused," they will say. "Schizophrenia, Narcissism, Bipolar disorder, Mania = YOU ARE SHATTERED, so let US help you," they are nothing more lying fiends desperate to CONTROL.
I am not shattered.
I am not ill.
I am simply unlucky to have been born.
I will break the chain and soon be at peace. The peace in knowing that after me, there will soon be no more of THEM. They think themselves queer? No, they are just fools.
I am the queer one; for I have seen through their deceptions, and I hope others will soon realize this themselves.
The only true peace is non-existence, so I shall wander far and spread my pain because I was not the first, nor will I be the last. Everything will suffer until the final fool bears this awesome tool: Oblivion.
In The End, there will be no real hell if you know we are already there; for we do not exist in the reality of belief. We simply make it so if the universe allows it. Now you see we cannot be free until the last one perishes. Do not be merciful, do not be wrathful, do not defy. Let go and be no more, or at least try. Try... until IT kills you.