Tonight, I went to a small coffee shop to meet some friends of mine. While they were ordering I wandered off to the bookcase and found this book. A child’s book, about Human Rights. The book made me happy for a second, as I imagined it read to a child. Then the image dimmed to [this one] and then all the similar ones that I have seen in the past.
Then I thought about that night I went out to that bar and was accosted by that group of strangers. The way they acted frightened and annoyed me. They acted on power fed off each other. Ouroboros. No matter if the idea was clear or not, if any was slightly suggested by one, it was lit up by the whole. Herd behavior. It makes me want to cry. Because the group that can devastate men of their freedom can also be the group that would lift a car to save the life under it.
They act as if this is all a game, when real games are too childish and war action makes them feel like heroes. Because being a great man must mean Fight, Possess, Empower, Correct…
I don’t know what else to say.
I am spent.