"God is, Dead,” I hand my cup below the wine.

“And we have killed him” my wine then come out within the instant of splash.

Then I turn my face to the crowd, the people who believed the “truth”, who sit alone to hear the “holy”, their faces, doesn’t look much as me.

When I wake up in the morning or whensoever, I asked myself for so long times, “hey Arthur, who defined this life, and even if we are trapped, even if people are helpless, why for god’s sake would we choose to live?”

But every night while I crawl for my bed to finally get a rest, I can still feel the shame! Why can’t we just get rid of the animalistic moment? Why, why the thing I hated so much appears every day when I’m drifting out the world? I don’t want to be a clown, or a puppet!!!

People say I’m a mad man because they can only sense my dark side, the one I spend my daylight to trying to avoid with. And maybe, I swallowed my wine and made a “clink” on the desk after putting it back for it’s old place, Wine is the only thing to let people visualize my character of what’s called “a freak”.

I haven’t heard much things, the only thing I now know is that the theater now is really look like crap, and my shirt doesn’t look like the way is it before, well, I say I still got my wine with me so everything is ok.

But now, the people already leaved the theater, and got some rotten papers and notes with rude words and curses on it. I picked up a sit where I haven’t sat on, with my wine bottle and cup beside me.

They are building, but we, are doubting.

Dear Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, what is your idea then? Do you still wanna sleep? Looking forward for your awesome respond!