Since early childhood I likes to provoke, test and observe the reactions of the creatures around me. It always amused me: you're setting up a certain situation, insert the objects in it and let them deal with it while you are, kinda, witnessing it from the perspective of a Creator. I call it "the Decider".
At the beginning I was practicing on ants. I dig out the ones with wings, whom I believed to be the "royal family", made a small labyrinth and placed them in the very end of it. Then I let the simple ants to go resque their comannders and only the first ones got the opportunity to live. The others got burned with a magnified glass. Later I understood that my vision of this natural selection wasn't fully appropriate, for among all of my "guinea pigs", the ants were the ones who deserved life more than others.
Then I continued my work on frogs, birds, rabbits. And eventually it hit human beings.
I don't know when exactly my merci hit the point of its complete self-destruction. It must have been somwhere near my 13th year when I commited my first human murder. I have never talked about it with anyone. It was a parricide. Come to think of it, it was my first steps to my work. After that none of my further killings felt more tough (in fact, there were little number of tough ones at all). There is no going back, no bringing those people back to life, so why stop now? This society has given up on me long time ago already.
My motifs are as simple as littering the crumberries : the bad and unworthy ones have to go.
I don't feel like explaining myself anymore.
At the beginning I was practicing on ants. I dig out the ones with wings, whom I believed to be the "royal family", made a small labyrinth and placed them in the very end of it. Then I let the simple ants to go resque their comannders and only the first ones got the opportunity to live. The others got burned with a magnified glass. Later I understood that my vision of this natural selection wasn't fully appropriate, for among all of my "guinea pigs", the ants were the ones who deserved life more than others.
Then I continued my work on frogs, birds, rabbits. And eventually it hit human beings.
I don't know when exactly my merci hit the point of its complete self-destruction. It must have been somwhere near my 13th year when I commited my first human murder. I have never talked about it with anyone. It was a parricide. Come to think of it, it was my first steps to my work. After that none of my further killings felt more tough (in fact, there were little number of tough ones at all). There is no going back, no bringing those people back to life, so why stop now? This society has given up on me long time ago already.
My motifs are as simple as littering the crumberries : the bad and unworthy ones have to go.
I don't feel like explaining myself anymore.
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