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"September 18
Even after years of being human, it’s still hard to open my eyes and integrate myself into the world. Human beings are strange. Many have no real skills, and the highlight of their lives will often be a mere salary, a mere job. Many don’t create, don’t know how to admire. All of them sweat, stink, age, kill. And yet, they look in the mirror and think they’re beautiful, think they’re special.
They dream of owning things, owning people, traveling to filthy places just because they saw someone else doing the same. How much of what they desire truly comes from within and not from some external influence? How many want something genuine?
They create idols, fantasies, religions. They become addicted to people or substances. They live anesthetized. They can’t stand their own reality; they can’t deal with themselves.
They complain about the lack of purpose, yet they never create one. And mine? It already exists, and you will find out. They complain about their governments on their smartphones, unwilling to make sacrifices or take risks. They complain about their bosses but never confront them. They complain about hypocrisy and arrogance in others while committing the same mistakes. The other is the mirror, and the reflection is never pleasing. That’s probably why I am the way I am.
What I hate most about humanity, without a doubt, is its decaying morality. They are archetypes of goodness and evil, truth and lies, mere illusions created to keep them functional in their beloved society, even though its individuals don’t truly care about one another.
I’m no better than them. I am part of the same disease, just as decayed as they are. Even so, I look at it all with contempt. I don’t want to be part of it. All this filth and decay. All this lack of meaning, of logic. Today I will have what I want.
This is not an attempt to justify the chaos I’ve unleashed. Those who think violence requires a purpose are wrong. Evil doesn’t need a reason to exist.
- Unknown" dumblegore.bandcamp.com
"September 18
Even after years of being human, it’s still hard to open my eyes and integrate myself into the world. Human beings are strange. Many have no real skills, and the highlight of their lives will often be a mere salary, a mere job. Many don’t create, don’t know how to admire. All of them sweat, stink, age, kill. And yet, they look in the mirror and think they’re beautiful, think they’re special.
They dream of owning things, owning people, traveling to filthy places just because they saw someone else doing the same. How much of what they desire truly comes from within and not from some external influence? How many want something genuine?
They create idols, fantasies, religions. They become addicted to people or substances. They live anesthetized. They can’t stand their own reality; they can’t deal with themselves.
They complain about the lack of purpose, yet they never create one. And mine? It already exists, and you will find out. They complain about their governments on their smartphones, unwilling to make sacrifices or take risks. They complain about their bosses but never confront them. They complain about hypocrisy and arrogance in others while committing the same mistakes. The other is the mirror, and the reflection is never pleasing. That’s probably why I am the way I am.
What I hate most about humanity, without a doubt, is its decaying morality. They are archetypes of goodness and evil, truth and lies, mere illusions created to keep them functional in their beloved society, even though its individuals don’t truly care about one another.
I’m no better than them. I am part of the same disease, just as decayed as they are. Even so, I look at it all with contempt. I don’t want to be part of it. All this filth and decay. All this lack of meaning, of logic. Today I will have what I want.
This is not an attempt to justify the chaos I’ve unleashed. Those who think violence requires a purpose are wrong. Evil doesn’t need a reason to exist.
- Unknown" dumblegore.bandcamp.com
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