Uh... Zehm's words coming out of me. I'm losing myself in this. Two years since I spoke to another person with only Kiy and Zehm for company. It's one long day. Always night. I can't stay awake in the daylight anymore. I guess that's the owl in me. I can't help myself anymore. I can't find help. I can't be helped anyway. The best I can do is endure, distract and sedate myself, but it'll never get better. I'll never be human. Zehm's words again. I'd call him a splinter faction of my soul, but I'm just a collection of splinters these days. The person in the mirror. The person who's voice I hear. The hated. The wretched. The divine. The lost. Uh... his words again. His voice in my text. Fine. Say what you want.

I will. Take a look around you. The world is seathing in the polite and the privileged. They do not have eyes. They do not have souls. They are the walking machines of cultural preoccupation. Mindless, automatons. Breed and **** and drink and live your life in two parts. Work and be productive. Play and be an animal as much as you can afford. Primates in suits. Hypocrites with greedy claws. Moralising their lies to justify the evil they do daily. Hate them. Pity them. Envy them. We are not human. There is no such thing.