Capítulo 1: stan.
stan. I am stan. I wrote this story, at least i think i did. I remember typing the words. I remember the ideas that i had about it. I think that if someone else were to write it it would be different. That is why I can be sure that I am the one who wrote it.
stan. That is who I am. I am a writer. I like to write things. I remember writing something a long time ago. It was about a strange house. It looked like it was alive. I kicked a ball and it flew onto the yard so I had to go and get it.
When i looked closer at the yard there were babies everywhere, giggling, laughing at me, running around me in circles.
I used to wonder why i would write a story like that. Now I know it is because I am insane.
stan. That is who I am. I am a musician. I have studied my craft for many years. I have been practicing everyday for at least an hour and it always makes me feel fulfilled. I used to play for an orchestra.
We would walk outside with our trumpets and pianos and trombones and guitars and play for people. Giant plastic elephants would follow us around. I always felt as if they were watching us and it would make me uncomfortable.
stan. Is that who I am? How can i prove that I am myself? I am a director. I once made a movie called "Repentance". The world was infested with zombies. We would try and survive together in a group but eventually we would all die. We all died together but it didn't matter because we were dead. God would never love me.
stan. If you repeat it to yourself enough maybe it will become true? Maybe it will have been worth living. I am a child. My parents take very good care of me. My mother drives me to school every morning and my dad picks me up. I have never had friends.
At school everybody would laugh at me because I liked to scream. It hurts to live.
stan. stan. I am stan. I am stan. I am a lover. My lover would always make me feel safe. One time he chopped my body up and threw it into a river. He would always toss the head last so that i could have a look at him before i left.
Satn. stan. I am stan. Could i ever love somebody? Will i ever be forgiven? Everytime I talk to somebody there is a part of me that wants to see what their head would look like impaled on a wooden spike. I would want to know more about them. I would like to see how the blood would flow out of their throats depending on where i stabbed.
I would like to feel how they feel. I would like to pull out their heart and see how it pumps. I would want to know everything about that person. What they like to eat, what they like to drink, their sleeping habits, the color of their blood vessels, what they regret most in their life, every emotion that they have felt, how the vessels connect to the different parts, what kind of porn they watch, how they like to masturbate, what their penis would look like when it's erect, how the blood would flow out of it when it's cut off depending on how hard it was.
Satan. stan. I am stan. I am not Satan. I am stan. I am Satan. I am not stan. We are one and the same. Two sides of the same coin. Two expressions on the same face. I am both the darkness and the grey. I am an architect.
I built a house once. It was big and proud and lofty and steady. It was the kind of house that could never fall. when i went to it at night i swear it could speak to me. It would tell me all kinds of things. It would tell me what my purpose is. It would talk about how great it's life was. It would laugh at me so i had to destroy it. I would never be a house like that.
Ant. stan. I am stan. I am not an ant. I am stan. I am an ant. I am not stan. We are one and the same. Two sides of the same coin. Two expressions on the same face. I am both the one who steps and the one who gets stepped upon.
I no longer have a mouth. It was taken from me by a man in a suit. He took it because i didn't listen to him. He never said anything to me. I was just born there. What an asshole piece of shit. I wish i could put him in a meat grinder and feed his flesh to all the people he made starve. They wouldn't be able to eat it though, since they don't have a mouth.
stan. stan. Is there a meaning in life? Can a thing like that even exist? No. Just repeat after me.
stan. I am stan. I am not Jacob. I am not David. I am not Victor. I am not Lucy. I am not Stephany. I am not Ted. I am not Miguel. I am not Mohamed. I am stan. I am stan. I am stan. I am stan.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
EpicestGamer
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