328/365

As the internet continues to behave as the trashcan where we throw our opinions our collapse becomes more obvious from a distance.

Jack vents in this angered piece.
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Many of us exist in a perpetual denial of our own design. Screaming at each other, it’s unclear if its for change or to disperse the pint up energy. Casting blame in every direction of what we feel most guilty of. Unable to control these impulses.

And we continue, and continue, and continue, and nothing ever changes.

The ever increasing rage of society which began with the children which felt neglected and voiceless, like a plague contagion spread to the adults and the elderly.
But it’s never real. Our virtual personas are the monsters. In person, we’re too coward to make the same stands, but behind the safety of our electronics we find it justified to diminish the life of another. Because they aren’t real. Because we’ve never met them.
Enlightened or not. With reason or not. We believe we are justified in a pursuit. The world must know what we know, and believe what we believe the way we believe it. Because we believe it.

We’re unable to stop. It’s who we’ve become. The pause button was lost when we gave up on developing our voices in person and now even the elderly behave like children, simply trying to disperse this brokenness we’ve been handed.

There’s no fix in sight and the rain clouds will make it over the hills soon. They’re coming our way. We’ve never seen an umbrella so there is no protection. We’re stuck screaming.

It’s what we do. We point fingers here, and point fingers there, and point fingers up and down but never question who’s pointing fingers and how that’s the one common factor in all the problems. Yet, they’re never blamed.

The denial we’ve designed to protected our immaturity and lack of want to understand our world guides us.

Ignorance is bliss and there is nothing more that can be done for us.

We have to choose to want to alter the path we’ve carved. Bury the old trail and dig up a new one. The grave of who we are needs to be left and abandoned to be visited only by historians. To mock our willing ignorance and question “How could such things have been?”

And when they confront us and ask us directly, we’ll say we don’t know. We’ll say it had to do with this new virtual creation that tricked our mind and was controlled by the bad guys. But we’ll know it’s a lie. We’ll know we’ve only said those things to hide our obvious shame. How we’ll look back and see the meaningless banters we engaged in just to hurt another or prove a point with no purpose and shrink back into the mice we knew we were on those days.

Crippled and lying to ourselves.
Weak and pathetic we’ll remain while we hide behind our avatars and false enlightened happiness.