DEATH REDUX
it isn't that it's meaningless, it has lost it's meaning
Rather than spending the time attempting to solve the problem, rather than facing it directly. We turn away and busy ourselves with mundanities, distractions, trivialities. We spend so much effort into this endeavor that we often will convince ourselves that any of this does matter. anything to feel important. never mind we are naked and alone in the middle of winter on jagged peak. exposed flesh frozen and aching. the wind ripping through our hair freezing us to our bones. we will soon become atomized nothing. the mountain will not remember our foolish attempt at godhood, no will the wind or cold. there might be the impression of us to be seen by the next fool who tally's forth in the same direction, but just as easily there mightn't . Brandishing the gun he shot the three dead. the first was resurrected for the forth time straight into prison. if the previous 3 hundred years in lock down didn't take surely the next 100 will apparently someone thought. the other 2 were sent back to school. death, threat of death, had become nearly meaningless. a minor inconvenience. War was a pass time. muskets and blades chosen for the drawn out nature of death. an instant death hardly left an impression after the first. dead today, back in less time than to watch a movie. no cost, no limitation, just death dead at last. we didn't know that once that barrier was broken our little protective shell would begin to fail. It's a problem of the ignorant, always assuming that the way things have been are the way things are. How could we have known we were playing with a beginner's aura? or perhaps it was a punishment, for daring to go against our programmed nature? things from the deep began to emerge. beings capable of instilling a desire to die, with the perfect understanding, that it is no longer possible. entities that rip apart the flesh, mangling into undying mishappen forms, with perfect lucidity of the plight. Things which feed on memories, distorting and erasing on contact. not killing, but turning all memories into hate and fear, destroying what made a person that person in the first place. Death would be a pleasant escape. if only that were possible now.
tags:
chaos death future homestuck memetics radioactive