They're laughing at me. They're all laughing at me. I can feel the supercilious sneers in their words, and I know it is happening, and I caused it, and I can't stop it, and all I can do is stretch my fingers and toes to allow more rage to fill me.
Again and again and again and again. Why do I bother with this deplorable attempt at life? Were it not for the two beauties the universe placed into my care I would slaughter myself in the most gruesome way. I would take them all down with me, I would paint the sky and the dirt and the rivers with blood. I would leave a wake of ripped rotting flesh so wide that maggots would flow like a river into the sea, that the air would hang green and putrid above my obliterating vengeance.
Oh lamentations, lamentations a thousand times more intense than birth's travail, cripple me, break me down, crush me, smash me so flat that I have to come back together in a completely different way. Destroy me, undo me, unmake me, erase me.
The imperative to do something of worth now looms higher than ever. I cannot kill them, I've never been able to kill them, though I've dreamed a hundred maniacal ways to do so, with the most clever and personalized mechanisms of torture. Turn, mind, from the horror you find so easy. Turn, mind, to the light, try to be good, try to be kind, try to love, try to ignore the blight that you are in so many ways.
I am human. I am fallible. I am the laughingstock. They are laughing. They will always laugh. They lay in wait to tear me down. I must be diligent forever. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence. I must perfect silence....
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