I'm not theater.
Whatever you say, whatever you see, whatever you want.
Yeah, that's how it works. Like a muffing waiting to be eaten.
I mean, it's not that I try to be different, it's not that I want to be wicked. They made me. Those fucking bastards made me. I know it's difficult to understand, but I wasn't born this way. In fact, I wasn't even born, I was made. You know those planes that fly across the sky every day, every hour, every minute? I'm just like them. I'm just like a crocodile who doesn't care about what the word evil even means. And it's fine, you know? Because, one day, one fucking day you'll see that, well, maybe, and only maybe, that's the way it should be.
I'm like Frankenstein.
I'm like a hipster in easter friday trying to catch those eggs without loosing my fake glasses.
I'm just trying to live.
I may be a little bit mean with people, sure.
I may be a little bit shady, true.
But I insist, that's just the way they made me.
I may just be a little bit. Or a bunch of them. That doesn't make me irreal, does it?
I'm real.
I'm fucking real.
I must be.
I want to be real.
I should be real.
Fuck.
Fuck you real people.
Fuck you.
You made me.
And now... now you left me alone only because I'm not that kind and good like you wanted me to be.
Fuck you.
I'm real.
I exist.
Hi.
Can't you hear me?
You son of a bitch.
FUCK YOU.
You know? I only killed those bitches because you told me to. I...I... I wasn't a bad person before meeting you. Well, yeah, that's true, I wasn't even a person. But I was a better one.
You know?
I should have followed the light. It was the end, it was my end.
It was time for my rest.
But you had to be like fucking Prometheus. You wanted to be God.
You needed to create something just to left it alone. To blame on it.
I'm finally going to hell and that's ok.
If you come to see me, I'll be the one living for love.