A raging sense of self hatred warring with an all consuming pathological apathy does not lend itself to a good night’s sleep. Throw in a bowl of homemade chili and a glass of Absinthe and who knows upon what weird Morphean shores one will wash up.
Despite all this, I slept the sleep of one who has lost all interest in the affairs of man and sought solitude in the depths of the mind.
I dreamt I was dead and free of all mortal concern. But not for me were the harp and wings intended. Not for me was the gift of eternal peace. I was damned, consigned to Hell for spurning the gift of life and its many tainted opportunities. It was not my fault; I had been born into a world overpopulated with filth. The prodigal and the vain, the debaucherous and the predatory. They had destroyed the world long before my arrival, cluttering it with the products of their own self important delusions and ensuring that no New Eden could be built.
And so I withdrew, seeing any attempts to progress in the world as futile. I became a hermit, only trying to control my own little world and leaving mankind to wound itself moronically as it repeated the mistakes so well illustrated by history.
And so upon the hour of my death I was damned en masse alongside countless others. Our crime: failing to “make the effort”. But I have to say in my own defense. In a world of the lost is the man with infinite hope a leader? No. He is an unlearning fool, doomed to have his spirits crushed time and time again.
I arose from by birth caul into the world of shadow full grown, naked, and very confused. I was cold, shivering uncontrollably. It was dark, I could see no more than an arms length before me, but even that was far too much to bear.
I was shoulder to shoulder with others like me, naked and bewildered. They pawed at one another in anguish. For you see, they were on fire.
The fire did not cast light, emitting only smoke which filled the air and wrapped us all in our own cloaks of darkness. I was on fire, but I was not being consumed. I did not feel heat either, but a cold in my chest so intense it burned. Our bodies were simply projections of our minds and could not be harmed. It was our souls that were aflame.
And so we languished for an eternity in the blink of an eye. Our mouths were open as we screamed, yet the sound was muffled. It seemed as if it was coming from some great distance. Our flesh was not real, we had no tongues to mold our cries, and no lungs to give them breath. We had no ears to truly hear either. In truth the sound we were making was quieter than a gnat’s heartbeat.
I called out again and again for friends and family, anyone we could think of whom we’d considered loved ones in life. Our pain was not physical, it was mental. We were filled with fear and horrific loneliness, desperately wishing to be comforted by the embrace and presence of a friend or companion.
This is what it was to exist without love, without a purpose, and without a higher being. Man without the love of God, by whatever name you call him, is a shell of himself, without purpose or peace. Though we were packed together as tightly as sardines in a tin, we were, each of us, alone in our own private Hell.
We were driven by the emptiness within to act out. The predatory among us brutalized the rest as the burning itch behind the eyes grew, right where it could not be scratched. Assault, battery, disfigurement, rape, cannibalism; they were all committed with desperate abandon. But the damage done was fleeting, healed in moments. The pain of it could not be felt either.
Demon archetypes battered shades aside as they waded through the press. Demons, djinn, devils, fiends, cenobites, beasts, the fallen; call them what you will. They were unnamable and indescribable things whose existence was wholly devoted to violence, torture, and anguish.
As they neared, the sheer malevolent hatred emanating from them warped minds. We hallucinated countless diabolic scenarios of imprisonment, torture, dissection, fear, helplessness, and pain.
We endured this time after time without choice or hope. As time passed my heart hardened and grew cold. The demons’ visions affected me less and less as any sense of morality and the ability to tell the difference between right and wrong eroded away.
I began to brutalize other shades. I knew it was pointless as they could not feel it, but it was till something to do. It became a pastime, a hobby, and eventually an art. The demons pointed me out amongst themselves for my viciousness and cruel creativity.
I became like them. A demon.
The pain within me still did not recede. If anything, it drove me to greater heights of brutality against the other souls. I no longer saw myself as like them. Instead I saw the chance to punish those who had destroyed the world with their arrogant ways, dragging me and others like me into the Pit in the process. In this way were demons made.
Having purpose, I became more terrible than the other demons, a beast among beasts. I existed for the next scream of fear and the next look of insane terror on the faces of the cattle.
I found myself a foot soldier of the infernal army, a legionnaire of Hell. I destroyed any who stood before me, sinners and the pure alike. The lust for destruction grew, drowning my mind in an orgy of violence and bloodletting. As the beast grew, my soul was consumed. All that I was before the evil took hold was slowly smothered. As my soul was destroyed and only the mindless demon remained, I found the peace that I’d been searching for since birth. Peace through oblivion.
Despite all this, I slept the sleep of one who has lost all interest in the affairs of man and sought solitude in the depths of the mind.
I dreamt I was dead and free of all mortal concern. But not for me were the harp and wings intended. Not for me was the gift of eternal peace. I was damned, consigned to Hell for spurning the gift of life and its many tainted opportunities. It was not my fault; I had been born into a world overpopulated with filth. The prodigal and the vain, the debaucherous and the predatory. They had destroyed the world long before my arrival, cluttering it with the products of their own self important delusions and ensuring that no New Eden could be built.
And so I withdrew, seeing any attempts to progress in the world as futile. I became a hermit, only trying to control my own little world and leaving mankind to wound itself moronically as it repeated the mistakes so well illustrated by history.
And so upon the hour of my death I was damned en masse alongside countless others. Our crime: failing to “make the effort”. But I have to say in my own defense. In a world of the lost is the man with infinite hope a leader? No. He is an unlearning fool, doomed to have his spirits crushed time and time again.
I arose from by birth caul into the world of shadow full grown, naked, and very confused. I was cold, shivering uncontrollably. It was dark, I could see no more than an arms length before me, but even that was far too much to bear.
I was shoulder to shoulder with others like me, naked and bewildered. They pawed at one another in anguish. For you see, they were on fire.
The fire did not cast light, emitting only smoke which filled the air and wrapped us all in our own cloaks of darkness. I was on fire, but I was not being consumed. I did not feel heat either, but a cold in my chest so intense it burned. Our bodies were simply projections of our minds and could not be harmed. It was our souls that were aflame.
And so we languished for an eternity in the blink of an eye. Our mouths were open as we screamed, yet the sound was muffled. It seemed as if it was coming from some great distance. Our flesh was not real, we had no tongues to mold our cries, and no lungs to give them breath. We had no ears to truly hear either. In truth the sound we were making was quieter than a gnat’s heartbeat.
I called out again and again for friends and family, anyone we could think of whom we’d considered loved ones in life. Our pain was not physical, it was mental. We were filled with fear and horrific loneliness, desperately wishing to be comforted by the embrace and presence of a friend or companion.
This is what it was to exist without love, without a purpose, and without a higher being. Man without the love of God, by whatever name you call him, is a shell of himself, without purpose or peace. Though we were packed together as tightly as sardines in a tin, we were, each of us, alone in our own private Hell.
We were driven by the emptiness within to act out. The predatory among us brutalized the rest as the burning itch behind the eyes grew, right where it could not be scratched. Assault, battery, disfigurement, rape, cannibalism; they were all committed with desperate abandon. But the damage done was fleeting, healed in moments. The pain of it could not be felt either.
Demon archetypes battered shades aside as they waded through the press. Demons, djinn, devils, fiends, cenobites, beasts, the fallen; call them what you will. They were unnamable and indescribable things whose existence was wholly devoted to violence, torture, and anguish.
As they neared, the sheer malevolent hatred emanating from them warped minds. We hallucinated countless diabolic scenarios of imprisonment, torture, dissection, fear, helplessness, and pain.
We endured this time after time without choice or hope. As time passed my heart hardened and grew cold. The demons’ visions affected me less and less as any sense of morality and the ability to tell the difference between right and wrong eroded away.
I began to brutalize other shades. I knew it was pointless as they could not feel it, but it was till something to do. It became a pastime, a hobby, and eventually an art. The demons pointed me out amongst themselves for my viciousness and cruel creativity.
I became like them. A demon.
The pain within me still did not recede. If anything, it drove me to greater heights of brutality against the other souls. I no longer saw myself as like them. Instead I saw the chance to punish those who had destroyed the world with their arrogant ways, dragging me and others like me into the Pit in the process. In this way were demons made.
Having purpose, I became more terrible than the other demons, a beast among beasts. I existed for the next scream of fear and the next look of insane terror on the faces of the cattle.
I found myself a foot soldier of the infernal army, a legionnaire of Hell. I destroyed any who stood before me, sinners and the pure alike. The lust for destruction grew, drowning my mind in an orgy of violence and bloodletting. As the beast grew, my soul was consumed. All that I was before the evil took hold was slowly smothered. As my soul was destroyed and only the mindless demon remained, I found the peace that I’d been searching for since birth. Peace through oblivion.
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