Perhaps I am succumbing now to the both awesome and dreadful mannerisms that define famous authors of old, most particularly H.P. Lovecraft. I have consumed his material again of late and now find myself establishing a darker unfettered tongue, and sadly, writing in the first person perspective. Always I have found his intriguing stories to be rather compelling, though this I personally reject.
Generally speaking, I do not favor such point of view as it often seems to lack the full picture and is more of a zoomed-in sensation. A periscope into the story whereby larger details might be easily missed and the reader left uncertain what depressing undertone actually transcends what jovial character they find themselves so entrapped within.
In any case, of some work today, I found myself titillated by this most profound extract: