Not everyone’s life story ends with a fairy-tale happily ever after. Some people die the way they lived, alone. The concept of Love is comedy to me for tragedy is all I’ve ever known. At no point after the protagonist of my life’s stories call to adventure ever came full circle after the epiphany to something greater. In most perspectives you could say my life story became more intense and significantly worse. The endurance of the Byronic heroic protagonist of my life story only rivals that of the original and prototypical Byronic hero in being hated by all that he has ever known. People who are popular and loved are too good to be true to me, it has to be a work of fiction, a fantasy, for me to be one of these people would be satirical in epic proportions for my life story parallels that of the genre of dark humored Transgressive Fiction. Futility, the meaning of life is meaningless, and every second I go on is truly the act of the absurd. What does not kill me, makes me stronger. I live therefore I suffer. I survive therefore I find meaning in the suffering. I could be playing with a Royal Straight Flush but as we all know, the House always wins.