
Restricted Delusional Syndrome
About This Novel
I was a coward, escaping reality and hiding in a fantasy world, playing games of pretending to be the hero. I am a coward. I have incredible power, but I dare not use it in the sun. Drug addicts always hide in corners without letting people know about their drug use, and I am the same. I am a coward who never admits my own cowardice and always puts the blame on others, imagining that they will know that they are the ones who made the mistake and feel guilty about it, and will correct them after I point out their mistakes. What a good idea! So I can only hide in my fantasy and lick my wounds, unable to admit my mistakes, they are all excuses. I wailed, I was afraid, I viciously imagined the distortions in other people's hearts, and drove my pitiful and hypocritical sense of justice to go crazy. I really want to howl like crazy in the crowd, to curse, to preach, to kidnap their morals and kneel down to me, and to piss on those decent guys in the most prosperous places. I want to see them angry and frustrated, and I want to see them also hypocritical and selfish. I am not willing to accept that I am dirty, and I am not willing to accept that so many people can pretend to be better than me. Why, why only they can be praised, why can they talk about benevolence, righteousness and morality while I can only be taught. Why should I, who truly long for justice, go crazy? Why! Why! Why! ! ! One can only rely on imagination to accuse a moral person of being a fool. So justice is my despicable butcher's knife. Kill all the evildoers.
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