Early on, the Feared One killed my girlfriend. She's dead now. I was upset, but if I showed it he would kill me too. So I perservered. And I prevailed.
Woe to the world, I said from the rooftops.
After killing her, the Feared One gave me a mask, but I tore it up, because I wear no mask. My identity is nothing at all. I am not just like the shadows, I am the shadows. And because of that all disguises are pointless. They just make it clear where I am, or where I am not. It's like the philosophy of Sartre. But with no mask, I was and am still the Feared One's proxy, and I needed a name, so I chose noblogger. It is the antithesis of my birth name, my rejection of society's customs and expectations, my middle finger to The Man. I will not be defined by The Man's standards, instead I will be the opposite of what it wants me to be.
As noblogger, my head keeps spinning, sometimes I have insane bouts and kill people. Luckily they are always people that the Feared One wants me to kill, so me and him are on good terms. But still sometimes I wonder, what purpose is man? Must I live and die on the internet? Verily, my name is Failure.
But then what does that make my readers?
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