I tore through my home, smashing things against the floor and tearing through stacks of my hard work. It was all for naught now, anyway. What was the point of having composed music if I was never going to hear it played? That very thought, the reminder that I had been deafened filled me with rage anew and I slammed both hands down on my poor organ, which had endured such torture from me before, but never coming from such passionate rage.
I could feel the nearly-pained vibrations of the noise my organ made, but that only made me more angry. A tortured cry escaped my lips, strong and raw enough to cause me real physical pain as my voice escaped me. I fell to my knees, pounding my fists against the floor until such pain ripped up my arms that I was certain that I had broken my hands, but that didn't matter to me anymore. What could possibly matter?
"Why?' I demanded, the force of my cry causing my throat further pain. Great and terrible sobs ripped through my body as I crumpled in a heap. I was still so furious at everything, but mostly at myself. I didn't have the energy to continue. More than anything, I wished that I would be struck dead.
What cruel god would allow a pitiful creature such as myself to live such a long and miserable life, so filled with sin and despair that I would stand no chance at reprieve after death? More than ever, my life felt like a cruel joke.