To Know On e:
If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably already found the bodies. I’m sorry. I want to apologize to you; you shouldn’t have to C such mutiny, such pure, unrefined emOtion in the form of a humaN cadaver. That waS never my Intention. But here we are, living. And there they are, Dying. And that is how the S(u)n wanted it to bE. I have oveR sevenTy entries within tHese notebooks. Now that you have found them, I need you to publiSh them for me. I want the worlD to know mY plight. I want them to find perspective. The casualties from writing this book are great. I don’t want those who have died to die in vaiN. The proper chapters have been carefully chosen and are listed on the last paGe of the third notebook. For your reading (pleasure), I have encrypted this letter. Enjoy.
Insincerely,
Hey Don Saint Iago
P.S. I searched for hours, desperately looking for those "bodies." I have yet to find anything. Read his stories to find out what he means by "bodies."
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My name is Hayden Santiago—that is who I am, but not what I am. My desire to burn and destroy, rape and pillage anything beautiful is rooted so deep that I no longer see the world as abject, ugly, but rather measure everything along a spectrum—a wavelength of beauty...I am salvation without hope. I am death without life. I am pain without purpose. I am here. I am now. I am you. Everything you have experienced before this has meant nothing. Consider this dying.
About Me
Genesis
"As we exit the comfort of the womb, impervious to any worldly influence, we forget this adamantine ideal—morality is relative. Some of us are meant to live lives that kindle in an enclosed fireplace in a desolate cabin deep within the confines of God's greenest pastures, while others are meant to live lives that burn cities, that set those greenest pastures ablaze with such a caustic fury that the cabin metamorphoses from an undisturbed sanctuary into a crude stack of firewood that keeps the embers burning in the hearts of those who execute sentience with such unadulterated élan. I am the latter, and after reading this book your cabin will be but ashes scattering across the surface of your existence. We are all just hardcover books—how long we survive is determined by how strong our spine is. Death for you will be but a puff of wind that makes the candles flicker and the flames grow tall. Death for us will be a squall that shakes the very foundations of the earth, creating tremors that cause massive fault lines to fuck each other with a vehement passion that explodes then subsides and every single candle will go out quietly because the wax has waned. And the actuality of God won't mean shit because it was within all of us. Sometimes we must sacrifice existence for the sake of avoiding extinction." - Hayden Santiago.
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