Do not talk to me
You want to poll me for information!? How fucking dare you!?
You will not acknowledge me as a human being and yet you want to take all my information, profit off my data illegally, and consume every single statistic about life as though I did exist.
What good is all that data for you if the person it is for does not have a human life with human rights? Your data is corrupted. Your conclusions are false. You’ve eaten the flesh of a human corpse strangled, thick with blood like clay, because I am a creature of the earth long dead from suffocating oppression with no air to breathe. There is not a person named Nick Bylotas who is left alive.
Where then is he?
Why is he hard to find?
Where are all the details about his life that used to be there?
What happened to that person I worked with? Served with? Played ball with? Lived with?
What happened to that student whom I will never forget?
Where is my friend?
Was he ever real?
Do not talk to me unless you know who the fuck you are addressing, because I am not Nick Bylotas the man. I am what is left when a man does not exist.
You fools think circumcision would be different where I of that accursed ilk? I would be different, I would have corpses in my closet as souveneirs from kills I claimed at random. That is the kind of man I possess when I have no restraint from evil because it was removed at infancy to cultivate cheating, lawlessness, cruelty, faithlessness, and dishonor. Do not wish for such things, or you will get them, and serial killers of the worst kind will proliferate and no person will be safe.
Oh I am worse with restraint. Infinitely worse, but you would rather have me worse, than evil, because at least now my wrath is channeled toward that which is good. When I indulge insatiably for death, blood, and destruction, I do so at the expense of the wicked, the cruel, and the lawless. Thank God for the time of evil that passed, or there would be nothing for me to excercise judgement upon except the good, and you and I know there is not a single good person. Not one anywhere.
You know damn well who I am, and it is why you are so afraid. Because I am infinitely merciful and wise, I will start my judgment with the most wicked human filth, and you’d better pray to all that is holy in your soul that this vessel dies before I reach you, because I will find something you are hiding, rip it out of your deepest darkness by force, and condemn you if I merely look in your direction.
Do you think I will care when I tear out that thing that is woven inseparably into your life with years and years of sin? Maybe, maybe not, and you will never know, because I won’t blink an eye, shed a tear, or grimace as the bleeding thing shrieks and thrashes with bits of you still clinging in its grip. I won’t wait, I won’t ask for your permission, I won’t give you anasthesia. I will hunt you down wherever you go, plunge my hand into your heart, and take out what you should not have within you. Those who live, will live. Those who die will die, and good riddance.