Convluse, my child.

[Eight-Bit]

Doubt is life.

Life is regret.

Regret is endured.

Remorse is weakness.

We make our own choices.

Free will is a pretty phrase.

Wisdom does not come with age; It is earned in blood.

Only the truly detached will ever live.

Assure yourself that everything is a lie and upon doing that you will see as I see.

In all of my life I have found that violence will solve anything in the immediate. It is later in life that the ramifications are felt.

Surely the weak are meant to be as prey.

Surely  the strong are meant to feast upon the flock.

It is where you lie in between, as wolf or sheep.

You can be both, and as both you are being so undoubtedly human.

Human. This is a word that sits sour in the throat of the strong. What makes the  human strong?

The resolute acceptance that in your own survival many others must die.

Must you regret death?

Must you feel remorse?

Only the wise will know.

[Eight-Bit]

I have felt doubt in myself once before, in a time when I was still young. It was doubt that led me to believe that in myself there was solace. Something inside, something to savor.

Let me assure you the only thing inside us spills out with a cut of a dagger.

Doubt was a leech upon my heart. It stole my blood, and in taking that, it took all of me. Within doubt I was weak. I canceled my own actions before they took place. I spoke quietly, and sought not to offend. I suggested to myself that this is who I was to be.

Fate is a lie.

I found early in my life that doubt was formed upon the promise of something better.

It will come when you make it come.

Yet with all of the living things in this world who is to get the best? The  mediocre? The bland and nothing? It is not in the choices you make. In the grand random scheme of this place we are blind to the grinding cogs set in motion by the strong.

It is the blood of the weak which lubricates the cogs.

The machine we call life, and all of it's promises, are what have caused us doubt.

[Eight-Bit]

What is murder? What is to kill?

Is it murder when you life is spared by taking that of another?

Or is it simply murdering the murderer?

I am a killer of many things. I have tasted the flesh of my prey.

I have eaten their vitality and imperfections. Their memories and sorrow. Their children, and their children's children.

Death has witnessed me. I have witnessed Him.

Is it my detachment which makes me so?

Is it the sum of my life which has caused me to be so vile?

Or is it simply the word of many against the word of one?

It is when the weak gather together that the strong must be wary.

Laws are etched in stone.

Does your shepard lie to you, sheep?

Simply because it is written does not make it true.

Is this book your faith, or is your faith inside this book?

[Eight-Bit]

It is the age of the predator.

We move with grace.

In time you will see this age come to fruition.

Where the graceful feed upon the clumsy.

There is strength in numbers. There is weakness in numbers.

You can only rely on yourself.

Remind yourself of this.

Remember yourself now.

Forget yourself when the time is right.

The herd is only as strong as the alpha.

The alpha is as strong as his herd.

Funny, how such a thing has worked for so long.

When the alpha becomes feed for the many, the many find fear in their solitude.

Another will always rise to be eaten.

Will you rise or will you feed?