Blueness calmed me.

Doctor Monica frowned.

To put it all in perspective, I had always been quite disturbed despite nobody recognising
that. Treatment from a therapist or psychiatrist had never been a consideration.

I killed, I died and now I am.

My original life had been a terrible spiral of awfulness and ended in my first death.
Words cannot describe the horror that is God nor the beauty of heaven.
Returned from the dead, I seek redemption.
Our lives are seeds to grow good souls, those of good nature are brought in from the
garden and given to the almighty.
Those deemed unfit for Heaven become vanquished from eternity.
Unwelcome and on the brink of erasure, my soul beamed a light of humble love unto
the force of creation. Ashamed and meek, God took pity on me and sanctioned that I may
revive and bring goodness into creation.
I write to you now from my hospital bed. I want to give perspective on my life, as
well as confess to and amend my sins that I may be redeemed and blessed, for God is not
with me.
Despite my immortal terror, I am happy for the first time in my life and have made
peace with the death I have caused.
To put it all in perspective, I had always been quite disturbed but treatment from a
therapist or psychiatrist had never been a consideration due to my practical ordinariness.
But even from early on in life I found existence uncomfortable.
It was as if my soul would not settle in my body. Very little impressed me and no
activity entertained me. It all seemed pointless and that fouled me.
Irritated though I was at reality, I did want to be decent and liked by others so I tried
to behave while I quietly tolerated the strangeness of being alive. That awkward sensation of
doom never went away.
Mum and dad raised and loved me well and taught me that it was good to be good and
so I always was, though an extreme boredom and sickly hatred directed toward everyone did
blacken within me.
Praise aggravated me and I would secretly rather be beaten for my failures than
rewarded for anything.
Despite this I deep down knew that it was wrong to upset people and struggled to bear
the heaviness of that frustration. Each time I let myself go, bad things would happen.
Philosophy meditation and medication did help thereafter but the edge always felt
nearer. Beyond the threshold was some sort of infinity I could not comprehend.
My descent into weird neuroses truly began on Christmas afternoon, 2005. I was
fifteen years old and I had attempted to commit my first theft. It wasn’t so much the action
that was the sin, but my reason for it and the enjoyment of being a bad person that was bad.

We had settled for our family lunch, mum tried to keep the mood happy with nostalgic stories
but my scowl must have been obvious.