I have been like that all my life, a strategic introvert, I consider living itself a devilish experience, and people are walking blades. I avoided them for years, I dolled up with many skins I breathed inside my cavity, I whispered to myself prayers for protection, and I built fences of recondite darkness.
The pain followed me, asking me for a rest.
But I’ve not been served yet.
The world is my enemy, and happiness is a virus trying to invade my heart with incapacity.
I will never patronize those entities, and I will not let go of my superiority.
I know that being a god in a foreign land is a difficult task.
It’s a curse from my ancestors.
I will be here until mankind withdraws.
