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Hated By Life Itself

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Vincent scoffed. Why were there songs that had such hopeful lyrics that said things like, “Don’t say you want to die! Live on without giving up!” How awfully foolish were those people that wrote songs like that.

In truth, he really couldn’t care less if he died or not. However, he would be pretty sad if those around him became depressed. He knew for sure that Charles would…Vincent’s thought trailed off. It meant a lot to him that Charles would defend his life like this, but in the end he guessed he didn’t really care. His ego was strange. Some part of him believed that he was above all. He could be the god of this world, and he wholly believed it. One day he would transcend above the lowly scum of this world. Unconsciously, Vincent rubbed the sore, bruised part of his arm that got beaten up recently. At some moments, he felt like he was the sort of person that deserved only the worst in the world. Some part of him always believed he deserved all the torment that was targeted at him. Vincent stopped rubbing the sore patch on his arm. Oh well, he didn’t like that idea so much.

He didn’t really care if strangers lived or not. If he didn’t know him, then he wouldn’t know them. It was just how the world worked. You couldn’t sympathize with everyone. Resorting to offensive and hateful speech was the fashion of this world. How would you even ‘live peacefully’ otherwise? What a wonderful thing it would be to live completely worry free, Vincent thought with a wry smile.

Vincent looked at his half dead phone on his desk. He picked it up without much thought and pressed the power button. The screen faded from black to white and it turned on. His lock screen depicted a picture of Charles’ persona. It was a cute girl with white hair and a cheerful expression. He didn’t understand why Charles chose that, but he still felt attached to it somehow. Vincent absentmindedly opened up a social media app, knowing full well he could have just done this on his computer instead. On the other side of this screen, he knew someone would die. It was such a common occurrence in this world, he stopped lamenting every time a news article came up saying that a person had died. Whenever a pictorial in the newspaper popped up, he’d ignore it. Even though he convinced himself to remain apathetic, it influenced him enough to start carrying a knife.

Everyone in this world is hated by life itself. People preached the ideals of normality and following the pack. Deviation meant death. Ego meant sanity. It was a little scary, honestly, on how there were so many songs out there about murder. Vincent never really cared to listen to music, but he noticed there were so many songs about various despairing situations. It made life feel even more hopeless than he already felt it was. He looked onwards and continued to live life carelessly. He hated it. He hated it so much.

Today, he stood in front of the doors to the cafeteria. He didn’t have any money on him. Vincent shook his head and went along to the library. Honestly, why continue to live if everything was so clearly pointless? It was such a nihilistic point of view, but he really believed it was so. He reached that epiphany years ago when all the torment first started. Vincent scratched at the thin lines underneath the cuff of his school uniform. Sometimes throughout the day those old scars would itch at his collar and wrists. It annoyed him, but Vincent refused to ever admit he was lonely. He would continue to carry on with life with that same obstinacy forever. When he got home later, he would sleep in bed alone, unconsciously gripping his wrist.

Youth was such a horrible time. The harrowing future of growing into a young adult, then to an adult, and then to an elder was an encapsulating idea. It made Vincent scrunch up his face in disgust. Why would you ever want to rot into a state where you would eventually need help to do simple tasks? His mind went immediately to the Aether. If he could just obtain an immortal body and ascend, he could live on with his whole existence without dying. He couldn’t wait until the apotheosis of going to that heavenly realm. Vincent sighed, almost happily. He was just dreaming about things again.

He wanted to die, but he knew Charles would want him alive. It was such a contradictory scenario, it almost made him feel like he wanted to yell. Charles had his own issues with his sister and mother. Vincent didn’t want to make matters worse for him, although he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly selfish. Still, a part of his mind was scared of dying. He remembers one conversation they had. Charles had said, “If you don’t want to die, then live.” Vincent sighed exasperatedly. If they were going to be sad, then that’s fine. He’d just continue to laugh alone forever.


Everyone was hated by life. Nobody really cared enough to grasp the concept of joy, so they opted to hate the life that was dealt to them. People cursed whatever past they had and used that as a crutch for any horrible action they commit. The pantheon of gods up above were abused as scapegoats for those rotten people. Those who liked the word ‘goodbye’ a little too much had no real knowledge of farewells. Vincent hated those people the most.

Things like happiness, friendship, and love were all things that could be bought by commercial means. Money was joked about often. In dreams he burned those jokes. He didn’t need things like those anyways.

Besides, if they were all going to die eventually, then all the things they’ve achieved would be for naught. Mornings and nights. Springs and autumns. Those things went on unchanging, but someone would die somewhere. Vincent didn’t want dreams, or even a tomorrow. If he just had Charles, then that’s all he needed. Yeah…that’s what he actually wanted to write about.


In the end, he was hated by life itself. He would die eventually. Charles too. All of them would rot away like fallen leaves. Regardless, the world would continue to live on frantically and shoulder their problems- killing, struggling, laughing, and shouldering it all.

Living, living, living, living-- just living.