Dying isn’t half as hard as living. When you realize this fundamental truth, when you realize that life will tear you apart while death welcomes you with open arms, then you will see the world in its darker, true light. Living can be difficult, so horrible in fact that it can even make you cry, but crying about life is pointless; it never cries for you. Life is naturally soulless, heartless, and indifferent to your struggles. Life will slowly break you down, until there is nothing left of your spirit but a wretched mass of darkness. If there is a hell, it is probably superior to life. However, this is only true for most people, and not for you and me.
I have always despised charity. The pointlessness of it. The belief that it is somehow important or necessary for you to detract from your own life to better the welfare of others. It is ludicrous. If you truly want to be one of the few who actually enjoys their time on this planet, you must always put yourself first. Life is too short to squander in service to others. You must always take every opportunity to improve your existence, to do what betters your own life, regardless of the welfare of others. More importantly, you must make no apologies for doing so. Your highest and only purpose during what limited time you have on this earth is the pursuit of your own happiness, and such an unrelenting pursuit is nothing to apologize for.

Michael Wilson suddenly put down the essay, for he could read no more. What troubled him the most was not the author’s advocacy of not caring about others, not the author’s eerily dark tone throughout the essay, and not even the author’s remark that life is so horrid that hell would be preferable. No, what irked Michael the most, what terrified him so much that he couldn’t read another word, was that there was a voice in the back of his head, a quiet voice, which solemnly agreed with every blasted word that he read.
Michael tried to fight it, his conscious trying desperately to dismiss the dark voice in the back of his mind as an anomaly, as a random thought emanating from his subconscious that had no relation to how he truly felt… he failed. Michael mentally raised the white flag, resigning himself to sitting quietly in his father’s old study. He tapped his left index finger nervously on the Victorian desk in front of him, and he uncomfortably pondered his very mental state.
The essay, “Self-Control and Harnessing Your Existence”, was written by the Englishman William Marshal in the late 1800s. The curious title had attracted the attention of much of the English populace, and while Marshal had been fairly known in philosophical circles for several years, it was “Self-Control” that effectively made him a household name throughout England. As one would expect, most of his readers were appalled at the essay’s content, but its appalling nature was part of its allure. Furthermore, Marshal publically stated that he himself did not in fact follow the dark philosophy advocated in “Self-Control”, and this admission put him in a more favorable light in the eyes of his fellow philosophers, as well as with the English people. But was Marshal truly genuine?
As the years drew on, many philosophers and historians have delved deeper into who exactly Marshal was in order to find the answer to this very question. Some have suggested that Marshal truly was against the philosophy advocated in his essay, and that he should be revered as a great philosopher. Others have taken the opposite approach, and claimed that deep down Marshal believed every dark word of his essay, and what he told the public was a total lie, in order to save his reputation. A third, smaller group has even claimed that Marshal really didn’t care about any form of philosophy at all! They suggest that he merely wrote the essay and made the subsequent statement in an effort to gain publicity and build his wealth.
As the years went on, William Marshal and his dark philosophy were slowly buried in the sands of time, and discussion of him slowly dwindled. However, there are still those today who are fascinated by Marshal and the debate around him, and whether it was fortunate or not for Michael Wilson, his history teacher was one of them.
James Barkley, that was the teacher’s name, had a tough childhood. His father abandoned him when he was quite young, and he lived a rough life on the backstreets of Los Angeles. Barkley discovered Marshal’s philosophy when he was twenty years old attending college, which he was fortunately able to attend thanks to the help of a private charitable loan as well as his own dedication to escape poverty. While Barkley scoffed at the darker aspects of the essay, he tended to appreciate values of perseverance, and advocacy of self-interest, both of which the essay entailed. When Barkley became a history teacher at the private Sacramento high school that Michael Wilson attended, he had a desire to learn his students’ opinions of Marshal and his dark philosophy. Barkley even dared to hope that with his efforts, he could reignite the debate over William Marshal that had sat decades dormant. Little did the optimistic historian know that by introducing the young Michael Wilson to Marshal’s dark teachings, he would be corrupting Michael’s very soul, and would receive far more than he ever bargained for.