As a people, we are all vile with the various acts we commit. Our lousy commitment to living brings our sanity, yet abashes our spirit. Our memory is infused with suffering; we cherish the thought of living with freedom yet our sins deteriorate us. We enjoy it. Our sinful decisions are what defines us. We are remembered for our obscenities rather than our purity. Our scornful souls reek of pain. This pain follows us like our shadow. All we bring to others in suffering and pain. Our benevolence is overturned by our betrayals and greed. No matter how altruistic one is, they will always still sin. This is the hell that is humanity. We must care for no one, worry for no one and live for no one. This godawful world has plagued us into a sinful style of living. We are drowning in our disgraces. Our conscious has a dark side; It is overwhelmed with cynicism and agony. The way of treating this is with silence. If our words and actions are phlegmatic, we can't sin. Or is this what the devil wishes? Does he want us to become enigmas of lifeless flesh? A destiny is worthless in this world, however much you give you will hurt more. No matter what you do, everything is a sin. This callous truth is misanthropy, it is the inevitable doom humanity must face. Misanthropy is the way of true life, formed by the very sins we commit and by the burdens we create; the obscenities of the world must be reckoned.
I cannot stand myself. The remorseless view of humanity lives in me as a burden. But is it? Is it the truth? Are we all so nefarious and sinful? We are. Humans were made for sin. We are dragooned into enacting envy, lust, pride, wrath, laziness, gluttony, and greed. The sagacious devil surges under humanity's skin, forcing me to abhor humankind fervently. He controls my voice, my words, my actions, everything. Beelzebub has possessed me, he is preying on my mind; that is the only justifiable reason for my thoughts. No matter how we deny it, the quietus of humanity has shown its dark colors. We have thrown others away like they're nugatory garbage, we have witnessed acts of sadism yet we only witness. We do nothing. We are sloths in this unbridled world. We are green-eyed when others are kindhearted yet when magnanimous we fancy vainglory. We are rancorous when something doesn't go our way, yet we must be patient. This waspish value separates purity from obscenity, beast from human. Even savage beasts are more wholesome than we odious humans.
I wear faces. My true self is hidden within the layers of my horrid humanities. No one can see me with their eyes. By looking at me they see nothing, but that is by design. I fit in. My face is ever changing based on how I wish to be seen. My life has ended. My branded heart has blackened out. This world has bested me. Yet I must fit in. I can't let anyone see my true self because it is ripe with the abysmal ways of humanity. My compassion is devoid. My selfishness has devoured me. I hate people. My idiosyncrasy is now to wear faces. As long as no one finds out who I am. This abattoir of stolidity wages war with my crippling fear and ghastly sin. My blank expression reeks of nothingness. This is misanthropy. The hate of not only the sins of others but my own ideas of the way we are.
In the end, humanity is doomed. We are all sinners, living amongst a world of perturbation. This must be fixed. We must think about what we are doing before we commit. The wise devil has ripped us all apart. All of us sin against each other. We have been split as a world into continents, nations, and then we are fragmented within our own people. This bitter rift must be abolished to be able to fix humanity. When it is set, we will all be living the true way, and we'll achieve rapture.
