How can my will to live be precious to the monsters who call themselves the human race? It can’t. They are monsters after all. If they gave a damn about my will to live then their heart would stop them from hurting me. But they’re monsters and they have no heart. My life is the proof of what the monsters who call themselves the human race do without a heart to stop them destroying my will to live. My life is the proof that the monsters who call themselves have no heart to stop them doing the blatant cruelty and the pure evil they’ve done to me after they decimated my will. They are monsters after all. What else could monsters do?

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