I was only nine years old. I loved Kierkegaard so much, I had all the merchandise and books. I'd pray to Kierkegaard every night before I go to bed, thanking for the life I've been given. "Kierkegaard is love", I would say, "Kierkegaard is life". My dad hears me and calls me a faggot. I knew he was just jealous for my devotion of Kierkegaard. I called him a cunt. He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep. I'm crying now and my face hurts. I lay in bed and it's really cold. A warmth is moving towards me. I feel something touch me. It's Kierkegaard. I'm so happy. He whispers in my ear, "This is my theological suspension of the ethical". He grabs me with his powerful Danish hands, and puts me on my hands and knees. I spread my ass-cheeks for Kierkegaard. He penetrates my butthole. It hurts so much, but I do it for Kierkegaard. I can feel my butt tearing as my eyes start to water. I push against his force. I want to please Kierkegaard. He roars a mighty roar, as he fills my butt with his love. My dad walks in. Kierkegaard looks him straight in the eye, and says, "It's all anguish now". Kierkegaard leaves through my window. Kierkegaard is love. Kierkegaard is life.