And not a bit of it holds a candle to that first year writing Conversion Bureau stories, here on Fimfiction. It was the single happiest year of my life. It is eternal shame and a condemnation of humanity itself that it was forced to end the way it did, destroyed by evil man-children who only take joy in the pain of others, and by faithless fools who felt appeasing haters had value above maintaining friendships. I was not a misanthrope when I came here, but I am now because of here.
Fuck humans. I am convinced they are doomed to a nasty end of their own devising. No loss.
<snip>
Of course, I am sad that the Bureau genre was destroyed, that it will never be properly appreciated by the fandom, that it will be deliberately erased by those too ignorant to grasp it. But, that is, after all, the end of all endeavor here, on earth. Nothing lasts, not even your name, not even the memory of your time. All that history will ever keep is illusions of the past, the truth lost not for lack of documentation, but care, or social politics, or simple foolishness. Nothing remains of anything. So you must revel now, for there is no later, and you will be forgotten and all your works lost. And if you do anything profound, barbarians will crush it, for no other reason than it was a voice other than their own.