In the end there are no simple answers, no heroes, no
villains, only the crushing silence of cosmic emptiness. Our spiritual
disconnect quelled beneath the scientific logician's theory of survival of
the fittest. An ideology drummed into the brain. Its simplistic code mapped
onto everything we perceive. We spend our lives anxiously bored to death
just waiting & wishing for something to happen. What happens next? Oh,
right, the hero. The hero, of course, there's always a hero, and, in this
fantasy, he finally steps onto the scene to save us. We know that story. It's
the oldest story. Oh, bright bringer of our salvation! The hero is always
there, at the brink of destruction, ready, in his gleaming bright shiny
whiteness, white teeth, white hat. So blindingly white and shining in his hand
of God chiseled perfection. He comes to show us the way, via his journey. He is
god incarnate on Earth. We do not question this narrative. We never ask
ourselves about the other stories we've lost in favor of this one. And so we
wait for the hero to step onto the scene. We no longer know how to save
ourselves.
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