Sunday, 26 February 2012

If anyone asked me why I wanted to die...

...I might ask what was wrong with them. Why don't they want to die when they see and feel shit.

Some don't. The deluded ones are lucky. They can perceive goodness when there is no goodness. They can feel joy at their own self agrandisement. Ever small step of progress is like an ocean of positivity for them. Twats.

This world is wretched and this life is better off ceased than continued. There is so much ill in my life and a bullet to the head would solve it all.

Oh joy...to sleep forever. Fuck this waking shit.

Sent from my smartphone

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"