/lit/ - Literature

I hate knowing the future that waits for them. I hate watching that spark burn bright and true, lighting up the creeping hollow that will eventually fill their souls. I hate knowing about the world and what it does to that spark, and all the wicked things you have to do to keep it. I hate knowing, that one way or another, it will leave you one day, just as you will leave this world without a thing to show for it.

i believe god made children so he could delight at crushing that spark and watching the suffering it causes, so he could surround them with dead, fish eyed peers to mock them and drink their tears.