Forward from: .
I am a connoisseur of catastrophe, a reveler in the refinement of malicious intent. I wallow in the mire of my own despair, never content, drawn ever deeper into the maelstrom of suffering. I find myself in league with the unhinged and the irrational, entranced by the allure of my own sorrowful mind. Yet, as I search for an end to this cycle of suffering, I am left to ponder the elusive nature of the term. Is it defined by the ceasing of all that is material and immaterial, subsiding into oblivion? Or is it marked by the reaching of an insurmountable horizon, a limit beyond which lies the infinite unknown? The contemplation of these alternatives has led me to confront the unfathomable horrors that exist beyond our limited understanding, a central aspect of my existence. Thus, I implore you, Nannert, to answer me this: what is the ultimate purpose of our finite lives, if any?
