A dark figure sat alone. The room was dark save for only a single lamp on the desk. The figure sat hunched over, writing, crying, praying for death. He wrote his final words in hopes that one day someone would find them and learn from them.
I wish for death.
Why?
Because I want to die?
Why?
There is nothing in life for me.
Why?
I hate life.
You don't hate life.
You just hate what's in it.
Because I can't control it.
But you are the only one who can.
The knife shines in my hand, There is no escape.
Escape from what?
Death.
Life?
Death. There is no escape from it.
Only you can make one.
No I can't. Death is inevitable.
We all must die some day.
Yes. Death. Darkness.
There is no escape from Life,
No escape.
but Death.
Death. I want to die.
There is no escape from Death.
No escape.
but Life.
Life.
Life. You must live.
There is no escape from Life, but Death.
and there is no escape from Death, but Life.
No one is truly complete,
which is why no one can ever be alone.
Life.
That is what I live for.
