By Me. (Of course..)

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He wasn't just a misanthropist, but a pyromaniac. That was what he used to do. Go around and become addicted to burning things. It started off looking into the lit, crackling fire one cold, November night when he was 10, and from there he became curious in fire. It caught his attention, and soon enough, nothing foreseen the cause of looking into that particular fire that night. He became addicted to it, and when he was only just fifteen, he was officially obsessed. How did he become a misanthropist? Who knows, some say it was just bad luck. Others say he hated it from his teenage years. His mother said that it was [the hating for humanity] was "like old vodka." He tasted it and "liked it, so much that he became drunk on it". He became a drunk, a womaniser, and a gambling man. He started when he was only 20, and it became his raison d'etre.
      He had a sister. However, she took the right path in life. She had a joie de vivre: a real enthusiasm for life. Any challenge she was faced, she would fight it head on, and be victorious in any thing she ever wanted. For her raison d'etre was being social and pottery classes.
      Her brother was pusillanimous enough to shy away from life, and crawl into an underworld of darkness and hatred. He became quiet, and shy, and his hatred for humanity grew into something strong, and powerful, and his mother, and sister, knew it wasn't good.
      He became a heroin addict, and loved it so much that he smoked it and told people that he "ate it". This is highly untrue, but it shows you just how obsessed he became to heroin, if he said that he "ate it".
      At thirty-two, he started basking on streets, playing a guitar, and often begging on the hard cobbled streets in London, trying to get enough money for his rent. His gambling was as strong as ever, and sometimes he resulted in cheating. He wasn't much of a pyromaniac, but he was more of a gambling coward who looked at life, gave it the fingers, and said, "Screw you".
     His sister became interested in jurisprudence, and went on to become a top-London judge in the High Court. She married Steven Joseph at 33, and had two kids.
     However, her brother did not marry. Instead became promiscuous. It all ended, when he became ill in 1994, at just 35. But he did not die; instead he looked upon his life, and decided to change it. He became interested in writing, so he wrote his experience in a journal, and became a low-class Author. It was bleak, but his life shaped up.
He became a raconteur, and started to bask on the streets again. He became well known.
      His sister had a life, and so did her brother. It seems plentiful, and even though most of his stories were nearly all rigmaroles, he became a full-time author, and works with Onion, a book-publishing company. He didn't consider himself a misanthropist, but some say he still was. But who knew?

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