First, a resolute warning.
These
letters by the damned were grim wards to the survivors, inspiring
bleakness; love letters to the end of the current trajectory. The following will also be released in my book, in the form of "resignations" discovered by characters therein.
The following toxicity can leach into the unwary, challenge even the most fortuitous.
Having never placed a warning before I hope it is not ignored.
The bent can be broken. I don't want to hurt anyone.
Please be sure you have the emotional and mental bandwidth to process the following challenging piece.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is not just a personal
melancholy. I have problems deep rooted in the condition of the world I
inhabit. It's not right, it's all an accident, with no correcting hand
that isn't profitable. What can you do if correction is non-profit when
cancerous growth is so profitable? What will the cancer do when it sees
correction coming? When it sees goals contrary to its own existence? It will
stamp it out as a threat, with no soul, with no mind to anything but the
dollar sign. Signed and approved by the law. Its gone too fucking far.
The foundations and soul of humanity are being strip mined for
their last precious resources. The world burns as we squeeze the last
few dollars out of stones for corporate.
How
do you stop such an impregnable fortress?
Such a monster that feeds on
itself, and has fed billions of lives. Those billions kept alive are done no real
kindness. Their bellies are full of calories only for the benefit of
the monster looming over the whole planet, with no shadow, no overt
threat the human mind was evolved to recognize.
Only fire and death. I have looked and desired nothing else more than an alternative.
It's too late to move as slow as we would've liked, as peaceful. The things we have to do for a better world for the next generation to live better will not be pretty. We have to trust that we can emerge on purpose and with balance. But the change necessary to kill a great cancer, can kill its host.
Fortunately this cancer has no soul to grieve. Unfortunately the agents entrenched and invested in its growth need to change.
The hope is that this change can be brought about through convincing the people and not be a death sentence. Many are so entrenched they would rather die than see change. We need their agreement, but can't settle for promises, it's too late. Given that many of the powerless will die or few of the powerful, we choose the few. It will be both in the end.
But power coalescing and spiraling cancerously in the distance is no longer acceptable. That end races towards us.
How do we swim out of a whirlpool? Together.
I looms just over the horizon, maddeningly. A crucible, a monument, to give you lesions for your very existence.
This great trough in the waters on the waves of humanity and the mental and physical health of the vessel we inhabit. The vessel is taking on water. We can't keep up with the repairs. A slowly unfolding catastrophe that is to be drowning – to be alive.
Humanity is not evolved for this. An endless gale blows in our face, impeding our progress. Always the wind blows. It rips and tears at our very existence without consent. Ever must the economy-humanity gale grow (for are they inexplicably enmeshed) and absorb all which cannot resist. The closer you come to creating your own winds, the harder the winds blow. Closer to competing, more pressure; ranging asymptotically.
For no matter how close you get, even if you could, could you penetrate that final veil? There is no way to alter that fate, that inevitable power concentration. For the economic engines have no human respect to them. They do not recognize human values. Silently, legally obligated, to grind bones to make the greatest return on investment. Absorbing all resources and threats, even legislating its own coalescence.
For in the end, if you can't beat them, join them or submit. And who has the energy to face them? If the pressure from where you're standing is already such a great storm.
Is this what those other greats felt? Is this it? This foundational, irreducible, nightmare attacking from all sides? In every waking moment, to every man, woman, and child, born to the 99.99%? Too fucking smart for their own good. Too good at riding the spiral out. Too good at riding the waves in the storm, at ignoring the threatening colossus. We are a product of our environment, as it is.
To synthesize the death, toxicity, and cancer.
There is some peace there, but not for we; the madness incarnate.