Work Text:
If one really thought, they couldn’t confidently say that people truly wanted to live. They could not go up on a wooden stage, withered through time - the lights flickering & shining upon themselves, & say ‘Everyone wants to live’. They simply couldn’t, not without being undoubtedly incorrect, because that’s not how society works: everyone wants to die.
It may not be something one perceives, it may not be something that one comprehends, but it is the truth of humanity; nobody is happy, & nobody wants to be here. It’s shortcomings have created a nihilistic viewpoint that scorns all with childish wonder in their eyes & sparkling hope in their hearts.
The world has been created with negativity: parasitic jealousy, leeches of envy, an echo chamber of scorn. When god created the world, he wept until the sea was born. When god created the world, he kept his rage in the burning sun & let the roaring fervor of scalding anger spread out in waves, torturing it’s inhabitants. When god created the world, he put heaven in the skies so he’d be looked up to, desperate for the devotion of their flawed creations to know that he was doing at least this one thing right.
God was a sham. People gospelled of his radiant benevolence, his passionate loving, his undying kindness: not a single part of it was true. God was a fake, a caricature of everything that resembled ‘good’. If god was real & if god was holy, the disappointment in life would be vanquished. He says that humans should find a solution by their own hands, but does that not make him as lazy ad humans, as useless as humans, as disgusting as humans? & if so, why should he be worshipped, be loved, be put high on a pedestal that tramples on the weak to hold itself upright?
If god exists, he is a coward. A selfish coward who only wishes to sit back & watch the horrors of humanity with morbid fascination & a heart that coils with guilt when they all inevitably die out.
It did not matter what war, what corruption, what delusion would come over the earth. God was not the ringleader, for in truth, the audience was.
When those around whispered with paranoia, venom that seeped into the very bones of humans, one would keep a cool head. The fact was that survival was a core instinct of homo sapiens, & not using thought over heart was a fatal failure that would doom one eternally. Thus, the heart was numbed. A soothing numb, as if an ache previously disregarded had left - but another had soon replaced it. The ache of distrust within a species that relied on eachother. The discord with the tangled wires of hope that rooted symbiotically, branches tying around a bleeding heart that opened its mouth for nothing to leave it, gnashing down on the void of oddity.
That oddity, that engulfing ache that seized his limbs, joints, flesh had consumed him to his core, & thus he paid that price with an unending darkness that not even god could gaze upon - death itself.