Letters from The Silent Almighty.

Letter 5,743:
A thorn in my side has finally come to my attention. I can see that alot of you are gonna live a long horrible life and for that I'm not sorry. I built this entire experiment to see how strong you all were. To see how you would endure. I know that alot of you can't take it. Now, what is tearing me apart is why I made some of you so weak! This experiment was doomed from the start. Most of you are extremely weak under pressure. You crack too easy. Amazes me that I did this to myself. My children, I'm sorry for bringing you into this world. I must admit, that with all the terror and madness in the world, I am a horrible father. For all of this craziness, I apologize. This horror was made to be tolerable, but I seemed to have failed. Maybe, I should put you all up for adoption.
Sincerely, in silence and infinite loss,
Upwards.

Post-Tramautic Stress.

Woke up this morning retelling a story to myself. I've never heard of what I was saying but I knew every single line. I suppose slipping from sleep to total consciousness was a difficult task to accomplish. I felt like I was in a dream but I knew I wasn't. I came into my story midway. I had just escaped a burning building by running down a hallway and jumping out the window. I remember hitting the cold pavement and the slapping sound it made as my hands braced for impact. I talked of a woman who always seemed to have control of me. Like a boy in high school with a crush. This woman apparently meant alot to me and I didn't know why. I soon realized the plot of this story. I was on a rescue mission to save this woman. I can't even remember her name. Was it Rapunzel? Maybe Kate? This woman was being held hostage in a tower that looked like a giant crystal Christmas tree. I said to myself, 'What fun! A building made entirely of windows!' Soon I was making my way up to the top by using the glass spiral staircase. I get to the top and there she is. Juliet? Or was it Beatrice? She looked at me, smiled and said, 'You've come too far to save me. Look at yourself. You've come undone..' I looked down at myself and I could see my skeleton. No skin, organs still attached and functioning. I looked back up to her and she said, 'It's OK. You're not the only one who's failed..' Then...she leapt off the building.

Letters from The Silent Almighty.

Letter 5,743:
A thorn in my side has finally come to my attention. I can see that alot of you are gonna live a long horrible life and for that I'm not sorry. I built this entire experiment to see how strong you all were. To see how you would endure. I know that alot of you can't take it. Now, what is tearing me apart is why I made some of you so weak! This experiment was doomed from the start. Most of you are extremely weak under pressure. You crack too easy. Amazes me that I did this to myself. My children, I'm sorry for bringing you into this world. I must admit, that with all the terror and madness in the world, I am a horrible father. For all of this craziness, I apologize. This horror was made to be tolerable, but I seemed to have failed. Maybe, I should put you all up for adoption.
Sincerely, in silence and infinite loss,
Upwards.

Letters from The Silent Almighty.

Letter 4,303:
It's been a major ache in my thoughts that for so long many of you, but not all, have wasted your talents. I've carefully placed the puzzle pieces in certain individuals and have even directed the meeting of these perfect matches, and still I am denied. All because you have given in to your petty animal instincts. The cure for AIDS as well as for all cancers, let me recollect: One, both had their meeting at a neighborhood bar in Henderson, Nevada. Unfortunately for all the poor victims, the cure decided to get completely demolished drunk and go home to fornicate. In a twist, call it venomous irony, they finished up, went separate ways and both died tragically from the very disease they were meant to destroy. Second cure, met at a rest stop somewhere in the deserts between Las Vegas and Los Angeles. Call it ironic again, or pure simple bad luck, but the tragedy that befell these two was that a serial killer happened to meet up at the very same rest stop. Cigarettes. If only they didn't ask the killer for a light, millions of people would be right as rain. This cure is buried together in a shallow grave beyond the cactus horizon.
Now, waste of talents? Or simply, ignorance? I can't tell anymore. My head hurts.
As always, yours truly in infinite silence,
Up.

Letters from The Silent Almighty.

Letter 156: It has come to my attention that many of you, my children, are extremely closed off. Your vocabulary is rather...limited. It appears that from this point hereafter, I shall 'dumb down' these polite suggestions for you all to understand. I imagine it's a problem all on my own as none of you shall read these anyway. Maybe I'll let one slip one of these days. Until then, continue your lives and please try not to make a fool of yourself.
Sincerely,
Up Above.

Letters from The Silent Almighty.

Letter 6,239: Just because I gave you free will doesn't mean to make a fuckin' idiot out of yourselves. All of you are capable of handling yourself in a decent manner. True, I did give a few unfortunate souls the burden of lowered intelligence, but that doesn't mean to follow down that path. I created a brain to hold your thoughts, memories and actions. Please, use it wisely.
Sincerely,
Above you.

Squeaks And The Hideous Laughter.

Simply looking and listening, maybe eavesdropping, you can observe for yourself, the incredible amount of immaturity. Stuns me to the point of madness that so many have fallen victim to this rodent disguised as a human being. Careful now. Shhh. Listen! Can you hear it?! It cries for attention! I pray that you keep your reason and peace of mind. Heed my warning, stay away from this filthy, foul soul at all costs. No good can come or will ever come from this tragic excuse for a human! Be gone from it's presence, lest you become a monster too!

The Recluse and The 8 Buttons.

Practice, practice, practice. I...love...this...game.

Tin Man.

Not one day has passed that I haven't regretted what I did. I wish it would have been more sacred. Now I'm here. Always curious as to why things went the way they did. And here I am, a rusty, old, shell of a Tin Man.

Broken Teeth and Constant Fatigue.

I wake up in the morning, I'm tired. Go to work, come home, try and sleep. Low iron. It's a problem I struggle with. You find out that the mindless conversations, which also tend to be entertaining, are held all by your lonesome. Talking to yourself can be good therapy.

Dear Iron...

...come back to me. I miss you. Please come back to us. You need to take this fatigue away.