DiArY oF a MaDmaN
Entry #1: Survival
Within the confines of my padded cell, I dwell in a realm where shadows and torment converge. A condemned madman, shackled by fate and haunted by the demons within, I find myself on Death Row – a perverse arena of survival, where I am compelled to battle fellow inmates simply to remain.
The greatest struggle I face, though, is not in the form of the adversaries that stand before me, but with the relentless war taking place within my own, irrational mind.
Formally a man of reason and sanity, I now teeter on the precipice of madness. My personality, once tethered to reality, has succumbed to the wandering depths of my twisted soul. Every waking moment, I am plagued by figments of my polluted imagination; of whispers of malevolence that infiltrate my every thought.
They mock and taunt me, driving me deeper into the abyss of my fractured self.
In this macabre arena, survival demands barbarity. The rules of society, morality, and compassion are but distant memories – fading echoes of a life left behind. Every ounce of my being yearns for liberation; for an escape from this grim existence. Yet, I am trapped, both physically and mentally – a pawn in a grotesque spectacle of life and death.
The other inmates, once men with names and stories of their own, are now just faceless enemies. We are all condemned, stripped of our humanity and reduced to the basest instincts. The explosive roars of the audience fuel the bloodlust; they hunger for the spectacle of death and the thrill of watching men tear each other apart. It is a perversion of justice; an ugly display of power that resonates with the darkest corners of the human psyche.
And I, the madman, am the unwilling participant within this gruesome theatre.
At Titanfall, the battle will be as frenzied as ever before – a heinous dance of rage and desperation. Adrenaline will course through my veins as I deliver blow after blow, driven by the instinct to simply subsist. Each strike will land with a sickening thud, the symphony of pain and despair echoing in my ears, whilst the taste of copper swirling in my mouth will serve as a stark reminder of the brutality that has become my sustenance.
Amidst all the chaos, nonetheless, a flicker of humanity will endure. In the fleeting moments between clashes, I will catch glimpses of the men they used to be, trapped beneath layers of disorder and insanity. In their eyes I will see fear, desperation, and a glimmer of the hearts they once possessed – a haunting remembrance that we are all victims, condemned by circumstance and the choices that led us to this wretched place.
And through the relentless struggle, as I navigate the treacherous entanglement of my own consciousness, I will emerge with a newfound understanding; that we are but fragments of a shattered whole, dancing to the discordant melody of our own existence.
But when all is said and done – as I gaze into the gloomy void, the lone survivor of the slaughterous Battle Royale – I shall be reminded, once again, and with a chilling certainty…
We’Re AlL mAd HeRe.