This is one of the things that I have experienced firsthand, as I become emotional as I get older, I feel my personality is getting deleted or slipping away, and in place of my personality, is another one with much less credibility. That’s why the earlier my death, the earlier I can fix my mistakes. Mistakes that I haven’t admitted to yet. If love is in the air, I am sure that angst is in everyone’s minds. Teenage angst is something I haven’t been able to be mature of.
This is why I also hate myself too much. When I go to purgatory, I would to be in a state of misery, as my peace and rest is taken from me on earth I have no choice but to bury myself with burdens in the afterlife.
When you pick the only option you have to choose from, can you really call that your own decision? Do you know the phrase “enough specks of dust creates a mountain”? Or maybe “three heads are better than one.” In other words, when people gathered together, they become even stronger and more secure. However, we were a group of failures who had gathered to do pointless things.
The time again where the pressure of schoolwork is pressing down on my bones, giving me my much awaited death, still, I digress. Unfortunately, I still can’t die peacefully, as my own classmates are persuading me with words like “You can meet your much awaited death at Thursday, where nothing is done.” My policy is: Be the person you needed when you were a child. To which I became like this, bringing up my facade to a maximum and only lifting it in front of my friends or the mirror. Why I have suicidal tendencies is because of the people I hanged out with, the kind of people where you consider weird is par for the course in my circles. At least I’m not like that certain person that considers social suicides as a pastime, does not accept charity, and rejects people whom likes him.
This is why death is something I look forward to, it’s also because of “measles” I heard that when you get this kinds of measles, when you get over it you become immune. So I decided to be rational and try it out.
This man, this morbid author, this descendant of cthulhu, is a man after my own heart. His works about his ancestor are the best as he himself becomes the next cthulhu, his works made my outlook on life bleaker than before, which is good.
Now all my tales are based on the fundamental premise that common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large. To me there is nothing but puerility in a tale in which the human form—and the local human passions and conditions and standards—are depicted as native to other worlds or other universes. To achieve the essence of real externality, whether of time or space or dimension, one must forget that such things as organic life, good and evil, love and hate, and all such local attributes of a negligible and temporary race called mankind, have any existence at all. Only the human scenes and characters must have human qualities. These must be handled with unsparing realism, (not catch-penny romanticism) but when we cross the line to the boundless and hideous unknown—the shadow-haunted Outside—we must remember to leave our humanity and terrestrialism at the threshold. -H.P. Lovecraft