I Was Twelve When I Read My

For Each Person There Is A Sentence—a Series Of Words—which Has The Power To Destroy Them.

I Never Felt Like That Before. Maybe It Could Be Depression, Like You Get. I Can Understand How You Suffer Now When You're Depressed; I Always Thought You Liked It And I Thought You Could Have Snapped Yourself Out Any Time, If Not Alone Then My Means Of The Mood Organ. But When You Get That Depressed You Don't Care. Apathy, Because You've Lose A Sense Of Worth. It Doesn't Matter Whether You Feel Better Because You Have No Worth.

Imagine Being Sentient But Not Alive. Seeing And Even Knowing, But Not Alive. Just Looking Out. Recognizing But Not Being Alive. A Person Can Die And Still Go On. Sometimes What Looks Out At You From A Person's Eyes Maybe Died Back In Childhood.

A Human Being Without The Proper Empathy Or Feeling Is The Same As An Android Built So As To Lack It, Either By Design Or Mistake. We Mean, Basically, Someone Who Does Not Care About The Fate Which His Fellow Living Creatures Fall Victim To; He Stands Detached, A Spectator, Acting Out By His Indifference John Donne's Theorem That "no Man Is An Island," But Giving That Theorem A Twist: That Which Is A Mental And A Moral Island Is Not A Man.

I Mean, Knowing People, People Are Terrified Of The Unknown And They Want To Just Kill The Unknown.