Hunter S Thompson

While all the spectators are busy trying to figure out why anyone would kill themselves, those in that position are in a panic to figure out why they shouldn't.

But once you've filled up enough pages, what the hell is there left to do?

Training yourself to view the world at a different angle, you end up making it impossible to live in. Shadows conceal monsters and light is a conspiracy for the blind and nobody knows it but you and few others too far removed to be any sort of cure for isolation.

Warp your mind finding that angle or you find that angle after your mind has been warped, life viewed through the refracting clarity of scars, and realizing the absurdity and illogic of things held sacred does not save you from drowning in it like everyone else....the only difference you can claim is that you know it's destroying you while everyone else is passively oblivious; peacefully resigned to blissful ignorance like euthanasia while you go down screaming.

Resistance is agony.
It pays to be stupid. While intelligence and creativity arrive with an endless debt. It's your own mind eating itself in the fashion of a cannibal.

It's worthy of both glorifying and demonizing in the same short breath.

The cerebral house of the talent you've never understood slowly develops the stagnant smell of a prison with the same painful thoughts echoing off the walls as the escape of words becomes a narrow hole, shrinking to a puncture wound before disappearing altogether.

Liberate and shatter the walls with a bullet, leave the shrapnel of your chaos behind in the yellow pages for future generations to misunderstand. Loved ones? I doubt anyone who knew you really loved you too much because you were probably an asshole.

It turns you into an asshole. Or a reclusive spinster. Or both. Probably both.

Why the hell would anyone want to do that for "a living"? It's proof of your insanity and you couldn't help it even if you tried. Even though you tried.