As the hours race towards dawn, I still have not parted from this wonderful thought that has brought with it a sensation not experienced since childhood, that is, hope and comfort for an exciting future, all courtesy of this one thought, this thought of crushing people beneath my feet.
I wonder, this warm embrace I feel, is it the discovery of my true purpose in life? To destroy all those who have contributed to the negative energy responsible for this hopelessness I have long been feeling, and this hate, hate of myself, of people, of the world. To balance the scales, is this my cure? Should I be surprised? Staying busy does ward off depression. Busy writing, busy gaming, busy gardening, busy fucking, all of it, moments of reprieve, but that’s all it is, brief moments, like a drowning man’s gasps of air, it’s very much welcomed, it keeps me alive, but fuck, I’m still drowning, I will be submerged again. Could it be that my Noah’s Ark, my salvation from this ocean of doom, is found in one word, retribution? Am I in fact, a superhero? Am I … Miseryman? Miseryman, raining down misery on every motherfucker that deserves it, for he must, he must, lest he drown in his own misery. Yes, I am, Miseryman.
In the darkness between these four walls, I fear I have gone mad. I step outside for a cigarette, and I look up at what I expect to be the night sky, only to be greeted by the dawn. Dawn has arrived sooner than expected.
There is not a cloud to be seen, for now, but they will come, and they will gather, preparing, one on top of the other, readying to send down the rain, and rain it will.