I speak evil. I cannot stop speaking evil. People speak evil to me. I speak evil back at them.
I speak evil like I breathe.
I am exposing my shame to a perverse degree.
I myself do not know where the source of evil lies.
I want to know, but there is no way to know. Yet, it must be somewhere.
If I peel off the layers of the world, it must unveil the root of all evil.
There must be some strangely nostalgic, eerie something.
But the most frightening thing is that there is nothing there.
There is nothing we can do if there is nothing. There’s no fighting or escaping it.
Perhaps I am the evil.
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