My Annihilation

Outside the window, the trees were dancing in their disagreeable manner, somehow looking closer than before. Like unholy pendulums.

Aristotle, the scholar from ancient times, supposedly said "Even gods cannot change the past." In which case, the gods are useless.

Take a look around the internet. The ditches into which all evil is eventually swept. People hide their faces and type away without a care, no self-awareness for how their words will be picked up by others, forming a chain. When human beings can cover their faces and hide behind a shield of goodness, they release their aggression without hesitation. Not even realizing their aggressiveness for what it is.

Aristotle, the scholar from ancient times, supposedly said ‘Even gods cannot change the past.’ In which case, the gods are useless. People are different. The past piles up into the present. Some say the past gives us the world we know, or common knowledge, but I reject that view. […]

She was thirty-two, but drew blank on various periods of her life. In her own peculiar turn of phrase, they were like holes in the ground filled with plastic.

Will you go inside my head?

Coward that he was, he could never have done something so appalling unless someone had commanded him.

It wasn’t some death wish; it was a ritual to make me stronger.

What I remember most is looking at the trees.

The range of lights decking the funeral hall transformed the tense figures of the strangers into shafts of shadow on the floor. The shadows overlapped, forming peculiar geometric shapes on the linoleum.

The light from the scrawny desk lamp cast an orange glow over the dust.

What does it mean for a person to be alive?