I'd rather make my children a martyr than a murderer.

The only way I could truly get the visions in my brain onto paper is by blowing my brains out onto said sheet of paper.

Sitting here and typing never does justice. Listening to the internal rants as I sit on the waterfall staring at the half-moon does it justice. Sadly, the thoughts lead to other thoughts and never end up getting expressed as badly as I want them to be. Even if they were expressed, I'm sure they'd amount to nothing; no one would care--no one cares. I don't give a fuck if you don't care because this is for me.
I want a companion that is me. As cocky as that sounds, it's really more so for the safety of me and my sanity. I cannot trust anyone entirely. As much as I would love to, I can't, but if there was someone that was me that wasn't just me, I could put trust into him. I love who I've become. Not entirely, but let's just ignore that the combination of love for other people doesn't compare to the love for myself, which is still less than that of the hate I have for myself. No one is perfect? I suppose that's my only defense in this argument. Structure is useless. Looking at the big picture, I realize that we're just microscopic pixels. Here's the analogy I can't stray from when I think of it. Ants:people::I:the world and time. We fight to make a dent in crater, but all we can do is slowly make that dent a little bit deeper. If I knew now what I knew then, I'd be a lot better. Mental reincarnation through the knowledge of life.
Dear [insert denominational belief superior figure],
Please don't let me live forever. Do not create immortality let alone ways to stay alive longer. You're doing a great job with this natural selection mumbo jumbo. War, disease, stupidity. Keep it up! Don't go soft on us now. Throw some shit at that fan; I'll still be smiling when you get bored. But if I'm still alive when it's all over, we have a problem.
Sincerely,
Asshole.