Turn on the music if you don't want beatings.
To Myself I write these words, for I am not sure as to how much longer I will be able to use them.
I never should have come here. On the surface, this place called my name.
It said "Freedom awaits you here in Rapture."
When one hears such a promise, it is hard for them to resist such a calling.
But I was blinded by this promise.
What good is there to freedom if there is not beauty?
I may speak my mind, but to whom will listen?
I may be able to start my own business, but to aspire towards what?
No one can stop me, but what would be stopped?
Well, none of that really matters anymore. I can hear the splicers tearing up the neighbors.
I never even got to learn their names.
With my final strokes of this pen, I'd like to share my last regrets.
My regret that I will never have felt the warmth of the sun on my skin once more.
My regret that I will never smell the heavenly aroma of the forests of my old home again.
My regret that I will never have found love under the mulberry tree.
My final regret is the lack of regard I took for this world.
May those upon the surface live every day to their fullest,
For I gave that up for freedom.
The freedom to live and die in this metal cage under the sea.
So now, let this ocean that weighs upon these shoulders be my final resting place.
A grave that no one will visit, or remember.
Shitty brown version
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