A Merciful End - SCP Foundation

I am a pitiful being, composed of guilt and obligation. I soldier on only for the sake of others…

I cannot fathom a benevolent being placing us in a place rife with so much pain. Yet each day I awaken, I find myself still here; confounded by those who preach words of gratitude. Do they really think we exist in a realm of jubilation, of justice? Cruelty without reason is suffering. My whole life has been a search for reason, but the one answer I've needed above all else, the one that's eluded me all my years, is this. Why go on?

I meet the maddening dichotomy of the human experience with great scorn. When we are young we are naive, we are dumb. Once we realize the value our lost youth had, it is too late. And then as we age, we accumulate so many worries and traumas. We wish we could go back to a simpler time. We become nostalgic.

But as children, all we wanted was to grow up and have that agency over our lives, not realizing the terrible burden responsibility can be. It seems as if it gets harder to be happy, the older one gets.

Sometimes I question this pessimistic view, I try and correct myself. "Happiness isn't impossible, we just have more worries, more problems, less friends, as we age". Even my deluded platitudes meant to inspire hope are tainted by my longing for Gehenna.

Is this a mental phenomenon because of our predisposition to remember negative memories more strongly? A curse from our own survival instincts and perhaps a sign we were never meant to live as long as we do? Or is this really just a sign of how wicked the world we live in really is? Am I just falling apart and this is all just my distorted perception? Am I totally wrong about everything? Or am I right now, in the eye of the storm, the only one seeing clearly all the turmoil that surrounds us? Is there ever a day the storm will pass over me? That I will see the sun on the other side? Or is that just a lie one tells themself so they can soldier on? I don't know.

That uncertainty is the fuel for the embers of my hate, this constant emotional tug-of-war, this back and forth between trying to be happy and awaiting my end. I can take this consternation no more. I am tired. I'm more exhausted than if I ran a marathon. Tormented by the constant questioning of my hopeful thoughts by the hopeless, and vice versa. I just want peace, even if I must find it in death.

There is only one thing that can still bring solace: the vengeful wish that whoever put us on this planet is made to suffer as much as we have. After the ones who pretended to care left me, I was left with only this as my last desire. I accept my damnation. I step into the chamber for the last time.