A microaggression to the jugular. Random rabid rambling by me, a.k.a. Werwolfe. Games, books, movies and general complaints about the world. Most of it bites. The world, that is. The Den is the blog. Other pages house my attempts at writing fiction.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
You're already mostly dead. You will create nothing, are nothing, insult the very world by your pathetic excuse for a life. You were worthless when you failed to distinguish yourself in infancy, and it's only been downhill from there. You show no promise, contain no secret worlds. You are a degenerate ape, decaying, justifying your filthy existence by a pretense of self-awareness. Your every breath is a waste of oxygen. Why don't you finish the job? Can't you even do that much right? Is your cowardice worth all this nothing? Every night you still think instead of acting is a waste.
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