Death as a Virtue

Not too long ago, I chose death as my virtue, that the greatest service I could give humanity, indeed the only service I could give humanity, was to die... The passage pertaining the details there in was that of my final essay, meant to be 100 pages long in itself not including the self-analysis, in my final year attendance.


The year can only be two-thousand and six, the time I am currently unable to tell you, people call me by many names, but the most common used to thy ear is "Freaky". If I am to die, then it shall be by thy hand, in thine own way, in thy time and that shall be the greatest honour anyone could bestow me. Upon my gravestone let it read; "This death was of thy choosing and such was thy choice. Fools who mourn beware the disservice thou give me."
And lo, I walks to thy doom yet does not cry nor shed tear. For he who knows what to do, what is ahead of him fears not. Yet he who is without fear is not brave but indeed a coward. And so it is a cowards death, not one fit for king, nobility, or other such higher standards, but the death of a peasant I seek for I fear not death nor the abyss. And so I shall be buried, to rot and wiley away to the nothings of time and maggot, not cast into the heavens nor purified with flame.


Meant to be 100 pages, it's barely 200 words, 191 if I am not mistaken, not including title... It still passed, of course it did. I am in no mood to go into the details of the self-analysis at this point, no doubt you'd find them thrilling just as all other man kind would. But no, those papers shall remain just that, papers.



I haven't been eating anything out of the ordinary, just a usual routine of cut meats and vegetables with desserts of fresh fruit. Real food of course, but I know that is a wasted cause on such youths.