I'll never have anyone by my side. I'm alone, alone in this hell.

[Crematoryy]

Without ever being loved or having someone to share life with, I was condemned to live forever alone—perpetually in solitude. Is solitude preferable to being in bad company? Why do I feel like that's not true? Would you rather have your feet amputated or your hands: neither option is even remotely acceptable. It's the same with solitude. Guess how I'll spend Christmas? Guess what next year's Christmas will be like? Guess how it will always be forever: no one will come to visit me, no one will ever come looking for me. My solitude is far from being tasteless, odorless, and colorless; it is pain, it is visceral hatred against subhumanity. I'd rather everyone lose what they have than be the only one imprisoned in this world; if the world isn't my place, it won't be anyone else's either. I am willing to face any pain just so that everyone can feel a thousandth of what I had to endure. My purpose is to be the antithesis of the world. I exist to manifest my resentment. The worst part is knowing that certain pains are unknown and distant to most of humanity. What would be life's fulfillment for some is trivial and commonplace for others; what would be an illusion for some is concrete for others. Socio-affective inequality needs to end!

 

[Out_Of_My_Head]

I'm not sure if I follow everything that you're saying, but when I was younger I had sometimes wished that I could destroy the entire planet. Now I realize that taking myself out is the only thing I need to do to stop my pain. Live and let (me) die.