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There is a man in my basement. He is standing on a box and has a spoon in his mouth. I call him the Teetering Man. The Teetering Man doesn't know when his end will meet him, and neither do I. Everyday for about five minutes I shut down all the power in the house, remove the spoon from his mouth and feed him.
He doesn't know how himself. The Teetering Man is the product of a relationship I had with a woman long ago; twenty years ago, the Teetering Man was born.
He last saw sunlight twenty years ago, when he killed my wife and left me with a life of loss, pain, and suffering. So all he has ever known was pain and suffering. He will never see sunlight. He will never have friends or family again. He will never know relief or comfort. All he will ever know is pain.
Because when I die, he dies, too.