"I'm leaving, don't look for me, it's too late. Look out for YOUR DAUGHTER"
- Her final words to us before leaving

My whole life's been a colossal turd willed by my ♥♥♥♥♥ of a mother who got her thrills and never showed me her face. I should blow my brains out, a nice death pact for a failure like me. Anything's possible if I die, no punishment, therefore no crime...

Certain pleasures are denied only on account of maggots in ties or frocks, all my life they've kept me down in the name of their morality, so why shouldn't I blow my brains out? I've got three bullets... Yeah. Nobody will miss me. It'd be perfect for everybody. Yeah, I could croak, and then nothing. The void like I was born...

Death isn't much of anything in the end. We make such a big deal out of it. But up close, it's like nothing. A body without life, nothing more. People are like animals. You love them, you bury them and then it's over.

A life is like a tunnel and to each his own tunnel. But at the end of tunnel, there's not even light... Nothing. Even memory goes before the end, old folks know that. A little life, a little savings, a little retirement, and then a little grave.

All of it for nothing. It's all useless. Even children.

When you're old and poor your kids will throw you in a rest home to croak alone, in silence. Children don't care. Filial love does not exist. It's a myth. Your mother, you love her as long as she gives you milk and your father when he lends you money but when her breasts are all dried up, or when your father's pocket are empty, the best thing to do is to lock them up and let them die before they cost you too much...

That's how it goes, the law of life.

Children pretend to be nice only when there's an inheritance but when the inheritance is a console or a TV set, it's not even worth pretending or strictly the necessary, enough to buy a good conscience. Phone once a month, shed a few tears when they die and your duty is done.

Love, friendship, it's all BS.

Juvenile illusions to hide the fact that human relations are nothing but cheap business. Friendship and love suits us, but in a calculating way. Reality is much more venal. You love your mother because she feeds you and stops you from dying, your friend because he gets you a job that feeds you and stops you from dying and your wife because she cooks, empties your balls, and gives you kids to care for you when you're old and afraid of dying. But slap your kid just once and he'll take revenge when you're old.

In fact, that slap is exactly what he wants. When he throws you in the rest home, it'll be his excuse to mask the natural disinterest that we all feel toward our sires.