Rant 3

A Story by John

sigh Here we go again.

I dreamed last night that the world had died. The saddest part is probably that I sighed a sigh of relief. No sadness filled me, and no joy overcame my person. T'was the idea of peace at last that made my minor contentment counteract my horror.

I was overwhelmed with neutrality.

I spent the day today contemplating that dream of dreams. I finally understand why I felt the way I did. Hope, most would say, is how people are able to carry on in a world so slimy and filth-ridden as this back-water marble we call home.

I imagine saying something like that to a passing stranger, that that is how I feel about this Earth, and I can imagine the look of terror that passing stranger would give me as he hustled along, trying to create as much distance between me and him as possible in the busy, bustling city streets I would be screaming at.

And that gives me comfort. That the world is so lost in their own daily routine, their own melodramatic grind, that they care not, nay, think not that that is what has become of their Earth.

I am not a religious man, but I can only assume what God thinks of His children and what they have done with His creation. I imagine him crying the rains down from His polluted heavens, trying to save the malnourished trees and fields and flowers as we plunder, slashing and burning, usurping His kingdom and denying his teachings.

I've read the Bible and many other religious texts, and I find it difficult that we can live in a society that preaches so fervently empty principles that we ourselves don't even follow. Is that our right? Is that our destiny? To become viruses and vermin, crawling through the foul, oily landfills that have become our homes? I know not, nor do I care.

And after this thought, it was when I reached my epiphany; a climax of personal social-revelation. That is why my dream made me feel that way. That is why I have stopped trying to care anymore.