To me, there are only two types of peace.
The peace of not yet existing and then, the peace of not existing at all - death.
The world is purgatory at it's finest forms. Humans, we eat, we sleep, we exist. Until one day we are no longer. But with all things a start must come with a finish, so what happens when your finish line is taken from you? The peace of not becoming is gone, the peace of not existing, taken.
This world is my own living purgatory.
I have been made by a demon.
I have been created by a monster.
I am made to watch others suffer while suffering myself.
I am my own type of hell in this purgatory.
