All these years of being cast the disdainful eye, the aghast look that spurs me, that convinces me that I do not belong to that group of human beings, that I am the paradox, the enigma that escapes definition, escapes understanding psychologically. My cadaver is no longer my cadaver, with chemicals oozing out from every pore, I am just a walking husk.
Where is my mind? Floating aimlessly across the aether in search of eternal peace, that is, extinction. All 30 years of existential porings are brought down unto me on this very day that marks the beginning of damnation and bittersweet sorrows and memories. Let things not be rewritten, but erased completely such that entropy reigns. This is the teleological principle.
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