Since you were kind enough to leave me these notes behind--all bloody 30 pages of them--I figured I'd leave you a note as well.
The first thing that comes to mind, thinking back on all the helpful advice and meet and greet with your minions is that, next time you feel the uncontrollable urge to help me, don't.
I am not a charity case. I am not broken. I am not a result of my history. The things that have happened to me, they're just that. Things that happened to me. It doesn't inform who I am.
I am not a victim of circumstance. This may be difficult for you to understand while you drown in your hippie codswallop, but for Doom's sake, get over yourself.
Not everyone who disagrees with your lifestyle is in need of saving. This world is a bore. It's annoying and full of spoiled whingers. It is not my world, you are right. But when I come around, I don't
need any wanker to hold my hand. And I certainly have no intention of wasting my precious time around here making "friends".
You are blinded by the ego you claim not to have. I am not yet certain of my purpose in this reality, but war will come. It always does. And when it does, trust me, you'll wish you spent this time preparing instead of...planning parties or whatever the fuck you do.
My advice? Get a job. You have too much time on your hands. Do something that matters to you and stop meddling in other people's lives. Has it ever occurred to you that it is your lack of purpose that guides your perception that everyone else around you needs to be saved?
I don't need you to make my life easier. I make my own choices and they've kept me alive well enough. Whatever is happening, that you are some hippie version of me, there's nothing I can do about it. But don't be fooled. I've come around enough times now to realize we are not the same.
I thought at one point that we could be. But it has become painfully clear that we are not.
So here's what's gonna happen. You live your mundane little life and when I come around, I'll do what you should have been doing in the first place. I'll make sure we survive, since you are clearly unfit for the job.
I don't care about your appointments, I don't care about your friends, your mother. Hell, I don't care about my mother. She's dead. I'm not. And I'd like to keep it that way. Most of the time, anyway.
One complaint, could use a little more monster. It gets boring. I'll go looking in the known digs next time. Maybe catch a villain or two. We'll see.
Bottomline, don't try to help me anymore. In fact, unless it's pertinent to survival or fun (my kind of fun), I'd rather not chat with you further.
You're a bore and pretentious. Work on that.
Until next time, flower child.