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I am sick. Every breath is agony. My head hurts. My room hurts. My town, my country. The world hurts. We are all sick. We are all sick. All of us. We are stricken with a disease of an infernal consciousness that makes life an endless, torturous nightmare. Some of us are able to ignore the horrors of what we are. Some of us are driven mad. Few are on the edge of both sides of the argument. Some can see and are able to put it off to the side. I envy them. I was one of them once. But I can no longer ignore the suffering of existing. The stench of burning flesh, the taste of blood, the shadow of death that lingers overhead.
How can anyone tolerate this wretched existence? Or am I crazy? I don't feel crazy. I just recognize that there is nothing holding me to this planet. These people. This realm of filth and disease and pain and so much agony. So much pain. Who can tolerate this? Who looks at this and thinks that this is tolerable and acceptable? I often pray for a way out. An exit. A way to leave. I can't do it by my own hands but I look at this world and weep and vomit at what it is and contains.
We are vermin. Less than that even. A virus. A pestilence. We consume and destroy and breed and spread our filth for no other reason than it's in our nature. And our nature is sickening. Our nature makes me vomit. I want nothing more than the eradication of our pathetic species. We are doomed. May the pigs feast on our flesh so that we may be worth something.
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