If the loss of color signifies adulthood, how many more times must I kill myself to preserve that color? This world, it is cruel. Like Autumn, our colors soon fade, to make way for the barren hell we call winter. So again I ask, how many times must we return, our souls damned to this eternal cycle of rebirth, before we can finally rest in eternal bliss? How many times must we fade and be colored again, like some pathetic white board? In the end, it is futile. The cycle never ends, it never stops.
So then, why do we fight? What pushes us, what keeps us going through these lifespans spanning from days to years? Love, hatred, joy, all these emotions that we claim to be driven by. Are they only illusions? Perhaps something else pushes us. Perhaps it is within us all, this shared hope that the end is near. Yet if that hope is truly innate, then what are emotions really for? They only blind us, distract us from the truth before us. That this world, this cruel, miserable world, only exists to repeatedly torture us. Whenever it tires of one form, it buries us and reincarnates us as a new human, to only repeat the same torture again. I can't stand it.
Feelings, emotions, and even this unavoidable hope. I tire of them, their existence. I will put an end to it all. An end to the very foundation we call "life". Then, when we all fall, we may finally rest.
It won't be long now, children. Just wait.