(For context: I’m a little drunk hence my lack of etiquette)
Growing up I understood that there is no power stronger than destruction. My willpower was crushed by a man who made me realize that hateful strength is all that matters. I turned my body into a tool of destruction, grinding everyday dreaming of the time I would land my fist on his stupid face. And when I did… all he did was smile. I was too late. The world had beaten his soul before I could and now he was defeated; you can’t hurt such a man… he died a long time ago. So how do I get my justice? Why don’t I feel like seeing him crumble away is enough? Why do I hate the world so much for what happened, if it didn’t owe me anything. My childhood was majority-wise shitty and empty of purpose. I was fat ugly and naive, and had my manhood beaten out me. Bullied at school, fucked up at home and called the weak link. BUT WHY?
Maybe there is no justice, and the idea of God is the fiction we have created to handle the cruelty of this world. I have seen too much, too much to hope that things “get better”. Not in this life. I am not certain if there’s an afterlife, but I know this life has no justice. Bestgore gives insight into a world I never would have imagined had I continued living in this social bubble (Thank you internet). Fun fact: People die insanely horrible deaths and face ridiculously terrible circumstances why? Because they were born in the wrong place and at the wrong time. All I have to say is ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! That’s all it is? Bad luck? How the fuck do you process something like that. I can’t handle the idea that everything that happened to me was just bad luck, and will never be addressed again. Is that being human? Wanting justice? Then I don’t want to be human, I just don’t want to care about anything anymore.