The more I uncover about the extent of the damage done to the Earth, to human beings, to ideas themselves - the more saddened I become. Make no mistake, things are not this way by accident. Humanity is not hard, being a decent one is not impossible.
But what is this tripe that human decency can be taught? Who seduced folks with the false hope that if we just ask kindly enough, they'll stop killing us? Why is the default to force people to do anything and why don't you realize how ironic that is?
No, no. Laughs sunkenly.
You may pretend otherwise but decisions are made.
Morality, ethics, right and wrong is not difficult and elusive. It is simple and straightforward.
But most of you refuse to do the work, refuse to integrate what must follow, and willingly delude yourselves as if you can't tell the difference.
Who do you think you're fooling? You want to bully, you want to control, and you want to pretend the consequences don't exist.
It's not science. It's not magic. It's not complex, though the application simply requires you to pay attention.
Even when you lie, you tell the truth by what you focus on.
As each day passes, I simply wish that my family is left in peace. There are too many people choosing to be bullies, choosing to be abusive, choosing to be ignorant for me to expect that wish to come true.
I am weary of the ways your terrible choices impact me. I am weary that the space the bullies have created encompasses and crushes the spaces I need to exist. I am weary that you have set up, and consistently choose not to question, a world in which the worst person's choice can destroy another on a fucking whim.
I am weary of your choice to not be human every time you decide that someone owes you attention, love, kindness, goods, anything. I am weary of your choice to place fantasy over reality and shove the fallout of your delusions onto the vulnerable. I am weary of your choice to stop in thought, never reaching the conclusions.
I am weary of your choice to default rather than assess, to emptily automate rather than to awarely create, to bury rather than uncover.
I am weary that you keep choosing to be monstrous and call it nice, that you force but call it persuasion or god-given right, that you excuse rather than understand.
I am weary.
But I create. And I choose to create. That will always be my choice. And I will make it anew each and every moment, in every perspective I can grasp.