I have a hard time deciding what I want. No matter what I want it always changes. Nonetheless one desire remains. Expression. The stories I have read entrance me. Natsume Soseki was the first person I connected with. H.G Wells mystified me with his ability to create huge, vivid worlds. A part of me wants to create what they have created. These worlds capture one's attention and for me, I feel connected with them. My entire life I have felt like a captured fish trapped in an overwhelming environment I am unable to understand. My life is fixed. I do not choose my happiness. If I want happiness I need to make due with what I have.

My unhappiness is a result of an ever-changing, volatile environment and as a consequence of my own inability to find a window in this self-created closet.

One day I'll end this fool's life and achieve peace.

Oh You!

Prepare you fools, for I am about to shoot my MegaUltraCatastrophicSuperDelicious...

"What the fuck is wrong with this guy...?"

"No idea"

...TerrifyinglyInsaneDuperBomb!

Majora was said to invoke madness in the wielder's opponents. Upon the sword's moon mad gaze the victims would intonate a symphony of screams and shrieks. What made up Majora's face was a dark muddy steel. Forged in the darkness and thereon accompanied by the falsetto cry of its wielder, Majora witnessed the dry earth adopt a plaintive red. Its disdain for the ones who wielded it grew as the moon's harsh stare grew ever closer. It is unknown how Majora arrived in its current state. Who was Majora many of those who knew of its presence would ask. Those who answered would often say the product of human insanity, the wilting of human morality.
                A 10 year old boy Majora called 9 wielded it. In the boy's right hand fell the wretched blade and his sunken eyes caved in black stared onward. Clutching his weapon he pursued the answers Majora sought.
                The boy possessed no family and no affiliations other than Majora. Lacking a past he treaded on with a looming desire for death. Dark brown eyes peered through a ghost white face. His feet were wrapped in black, knee-high boots and a heavy white coat shrouded the rest of his tiny body.
                In the present moment he lied abroad society. Winter fell upon his face.
"Don't ya think ya should be going faster?"
                Majora spoke up. Coarse as his voice was the boy felt no sense of fear. Majora's present form was a thick katana, its skin carved. A series of indiscernible figures made up these etchings.

It approaches its body a mass of black flames and eyes a blazing white. I can't help but grit my teeth to this foul odor. This is not Baskervilles. A far darker presence hangs before my shadow. A croak erupts and emerging from the beast's back a wolfish tail soon follows. Its step places it before the light and a peculiar design unveils itself.

                'Ha! So you're the prey. Wouldn't have thought the darkness itself would be the inspiration to the cocking of my gun. So be it.'

 A swing of my arm homes me before the night and a quick jab at the trigger breaks through its abdomen. Black sludge pools from where a heart should be. Lest my gun be deterred the beast finds its gait once more and attacks as if nothing hit it. Left shaken I stare death in the face. Copper colored light floods the room. I drop to my knees. 

The tallest man on Earth stands beneath the Heavens

People revere God as they do the precipice of a mountain. We aspire to bask in its glory; for many that aspiration remains. Looking up we stand in awe.

What is life, what is misery, and what is happiness?

            Look back on history and you'll see why 'misery' became a word. Children were raped, slaughtered, tortured. The poor were fodder for those under political rule. Fast forward to today. For those of the Western world who embrace middle class economics, such atrocities no longer exist. The biggest worry for those of the Western world is whether they'll be able to find a job that 'excites' them, to live the 'American Dream'. Desire for marriage, a house, children... What for? Why exactly do those of the modern world persist in this day? In the past men and women cradled what little they had in their palms and that amounted to mere survival. Happiness was a dream, a fantasy for the majority.

            Today survival has birthed a new drive for Westerners. Today survival is no longer a pursuit but a trajectory for those embracing life. Westerners are able to live.

            Even in this hospitable environment people still find reason to lament. Why is that? Why is it that misery curls beneath our feet, ready to pounce and swallow us whole when given the opportunity? No matter the circumstances we as a species are volatile in even the slightest environment.