When all is said and done, listlessness remains. It is the hell of dispassion, in a very real form. It offers that heavy peace, the peace of the graveyard – no beasts, no passion, no fury.
We were lied to. Be honest, be beneficent. Such treachery of the soul. It’s not the beneficence that makes this rotten world turn around. It’s our unadulterated malice and capacity for destruction.
I fucking hate all of this. All I wish is for the ignorant to wallow in the primordial suffering of war. Death and destruction, the final equalizer. When all is said and done – the good, the evil, the violence, the healing… they are all pointless acts in this cyclic hell of purposelessness. And we’ve been thrust into it against our will. We’ve never asked to be born in the first place. We were at peace.