Thousands of years ago, the demons created a planet. They wanted something to watch over and something to keep them amused throughout their centuries of life. They placed beings on this world and made a dimension for themselves. A higher plane, visible as shapes in the clouds. These demons would peer down at their world and laugh at the foolishness of their creations.

As wars were fought over tiny pieces of land, the demons would delight in the destruction. Solemly, they listened to oceans of tears cried by mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and children alike. They marveled at art and music, and drew inspiration from machines of war. But, the planet couldn't amuse them forever. Demons delight in destruction and bloodshed, and this world couldn't provide them with the nessesary entertainment. Decisions were made and this world was no more.

The demons started again, with a new world. Again they placed themselves in the sky so they could watch their creation forever. They designed a creature that would provide them with entertainment. A creature that would hurt other's for their own gain. But, this creauture also failed them.

The demons realized that they couldn't create a creature sadistic enough for their tastes. So, they decided that whenever things got boring they would send an envoy. A single person that would whip up a delicious mixture of bloodshed and terror. A single person who could lead a struggling nation to create a mess of violence and horrifying tragidy. A person who would share this with the whole world. The Earth.

Basically,

We all want to write about how being a loser sucks.

Sure,

It does,

But what if being a loser didn't suck.

What if we,

Being slightly abnormal than commonplace society,

Actually meant something.

Think about it,

How did a loser become a loser?

We tried,

We failed,

We felt like shit and wanted to quit,

And yet,

Here we are.

Maybe being a loser really just means we have lived.