Draw for Persona

Philosophical

Humans are rational beings. We make decisions based on inputs and trained responses. In order to be alive and truly rational, humans must have free will. This means they must be able to choose between good and evil. This is not always true in this world. Humans can act badly or well, in the sense that if one human is denying and mutilating the free will of another, that is BAD. God is not the sponsor of evils.

let me tell you about him... he's the embodiment of the sun and he would tell you as much himself. hell, he stick and poked the symbol for the sun around a freckle on his thigh midway through his short existence as himself. he was marked by and molded by suffering and he was damn determined to outshine it. so delusionally optimistic, every single thing he saw happen to him was for a grander purpose, meant he was something bigger, meant he was good. he sang and he danced with himself and he talked to everyone and had fun and met people and was a thrill to be around. he cried in the cafe because the song on the radio spoke directly to him as if beyond the grave. and yes, he believed it, because believing that meant that he felt seen and understood. he saw the fourth wall and he performed for it, performed for everyone, literally everyone. he'd look in the mirror and broadcast to every soul.

he blinded himself with his own raw light. and fuck, can you blame him?

he saw everyone around him as so special, and so fleeting, and so complex and beautiful and deep. and so.... narrativized.

he believed everything he ever told himself and he only told himself beautiful things. sickly, rotten sweet, coating his teeth and intoxicating him.

he was god, and that was news to him! it didn't click quite right away, but he figured it out. he created the whole world for himself and raised himself in his own world, ready to inherit the power and the responsibility and the narrative role of change. of change, love, meaning, of healing the world.

and he just had to suffer this little bit more... and now he just had to suffer the waiting. suffer waiting and suffer being himself.

so he chose to enjoy it. he chose to enjoy the "before" era of his life, he chose to enjoy his youth, the lead up to his grand destiny. he chose to love himself and love being himself.

god damn he made it look enjoyable. he was so scared. he'd never say it, he'd never say it to himself, or else he just might experience it unthrottled.

and when would he really wake up? what would it take for him to wake up? was he ever actually real? yes, he was, and he sat with me and I sat with him and he sat with himself.

did he have real power? real magic? he'd tell you he did. numerically proven, actually. sexually proven. same thing.

and at least the world made sense to him. at least he felt like he had a purpose. at least he felt important, and loveable, and powerful, and was only... intermittently suicidal.

he generated however much joy and hope and belief that was necessary in order to survive. he worshipped himself. he kept himself alive for this.

give him a personality trait

----> Brevity
----> Confidence
----> Error