Chapter Text
2050. Thirty years into an environmental and diplomatic mess. Third World War? Bitch, we’ve seen the Fifth One end and peace wasn’t even the end, there were just no soldiers left to die. No-bo-dy left to die. I remember 2020. The worst years, they said. Covid and all these deaths. Those governments who watched the numbers go up in their banks when their people were buried in central park for the lack of space. No ceremony, just… left to be forgotten as numbers in a diagram. So then, if our leaders betray us, surely we can count on the police, right? They swore to protect us, right? Haha, good one. God, this world is filled with hypocrites and lies.
I was just 18 at the time. I remember the slight hope of a better future. How our generation stood up and cried out at the unfairness, the racism and the corruption. How we took charges through Tik Tok and Twitter. We used our words like sharp weapons and throwed fairy emojis at serial killers' faces. We didn’t fear death, after all, how much worse could it be?
Sure, we didn’t want to quit living, after all, life can be beautiful and it's worth living. I know that. I knew that. Beauty can be found in different shapes and forms; the sky on a summer evening, the flows of water in the river close to home, the smiles of your closest friends after they managed to make that motherfucking flute with bamboo and then proceed to play it for an entire afternoon and of course, the most important: tea. I love tea so much its almost torture to know that it doesn’t exist anymore. Well, nothing really exists anymore.
Who would have thought that missile launches and bombardements would have destroyed the small line that kept the world from self-destruction? Everyone, apparently, except those bigoted leaders.
Then, when the world became a goddamn waste land where the sound of wind in the trees and the chirping of birds all but disappears, what are we meant to do? When water finally becomes more precious than dollar bills, but far too late? What are you meant to do, when all the colors, so precious and diverse, turned to a bitter grey. When the hopes and lives of those kids I remember say with such a gaping hole in their chest, ‘’Another one bites the dust’’ when one of their own becomes as grey as the world around them. What are we meant to do?
Because let me say, we fucking tried. From peaceful pleas to violent riot. A to Z, because we are Gens Z and we tried so fucking hard to changed the future of Earth. But when screams fall into the deaf ears of old and self-important bitches, there's only so much words can do. So, the desperates changed their attack plan. Catchy phrases and speeches turned bullets and spears. They wanted to be heard, they will be heard. And… They were heard. But those men only saw what benefits them. Blind to reasons, they are, those fools.
So when wars rained upon us, and that we were forced to fight for those people in their power battles. They went from being gold-diggers to grave-robbers. They just didn’t think the youth would be that stubborn. Didn’t stop us from dying, though. The world ended in 30 years. But when I think about it, it started as soon as the Homo Sapiens race appeared. The smart man. Smart enough to destroy the world but dumb enough to let it happen.
After all this, this is where I stand. On a destroyed planet, where the worries of my studies and future jobs when I was 18 all seem so… meaningless. Where the beauty of life has faded from my eyes by the view of all those grey corpses. Never would I’ve thought to long for the sound of that bamboo flute. So, here I stand, feeling a thousand years old, too bitter to even cry in front of my last friend's grave. Thus, I’ll ask. What am I meant to do?
Honestly, the pain of that bullet through my brain was the best thing I felt in a while.#Noregret.