How much would you subject yourself to constant training through the infliction of pain so that, 

maybe, you're repenting for what you did? 

Eventually you think you are repenting for the sins of your neighbours, then the world. 

It goes wide, fast, and it brings a savior complex, but you are nothing, 

and when you remind yourself of that, you absolve yourself of your own sins and skin. 

Blood never flowed from me in this way but something else, more important, did. 

I lost humanity, and I stopped trying to cling to it. 

Who really am I today, but a constant man thinking about a world burning in its self-righteousness. 

And mine just as well. 

But I do not take actions that may bring ill to someone, as much ill as I may think of them. 

Rare are those beyond redemption, and those who are not can be helped.

But I do not linger. It is never a good idea to try to help someone. 

They will reject you, no matter the approach you may take. 

The strong-willed accept help, those are the ones you should help. 

Those who need and accept help.

The weak-willed live miserably until they understand their weakness will never bring them what they seek. 

Those can only be left to their own decision.

The weak-willed may seek help, they may do something with it, they may not. 

But, eventually, when they are ready and truly broken, they will accept help.

The strong-willed suffer in a way that does not brings them down. It is Marcus Aurelius who said:

"It is my good luck that, although this has happened to me, I can bear it without pain, 

neither crushed by the present nor fearful of the future."



	As I will start to decay, I expect the world to not remember itself. 

But, I think I already started decaying. 

Growing constantly, replacing the dead cells by the ashes of broken souls coming from the Styx, 

hearing the distant sound of trumpets from the sky. 

A long burning end. A bright, yet dimlit, burning end. And I am ashes. And I will and want death. 

As I die, just me there. As Time is in opposition to the Divine, 

my words ring through what will eventually disappear from everything that ever existed and will exist. 

And we all will. As we all should.



	Numb, jaded, whatever the word, beyond that is the lack of want. 

I talked and wrote about it already, and so many have, but so many died.

I tread between the two, the lack of want and the wish to want. As I wanted before, 

more stupid then that today. And more today than tomorrow.

It is the path everyone takes, 

those who understand that life is a constant pain with its own rewards. 

A continuous improvement. An improvement for the self towards nothingness.

To be shining as gods, so that we can emit one last flame of our divinity in death. 

I do not know if there is something after death, but I am wondering about many things surrounding it.

None will ever have the answer, as it shouldn't be given to any living being. 

Such as Time should never be played with.