<aside>

Birthed from a bloodline of the elite, the malformed was introduced to the world of roaches and self-righteous swine. The lingering evidence of their infected mind was unveiled only in the wake of their absence.

—

.x

This vain mantle bearing worthless prestige — I will rip it apart with my very own hands! In the preservation of this “pure” lineage, we have been poisoned by the vanity of our predecessors.

In my heart, I truly do believe that I am an elite; after all, that is the world I was raised in. In all my rationality, I think and say that this claim is entirely false, for the value of a miracle birthed from biological systems cannot be measured by superficial standards — it shouldn’t be. Yet here I stand, robed and lathered in hypocrisy, simply another narrow-minded swine guised as the rational and reasonable human being. Despite knowing that there exists no such distinction between us, as roaches and swine, my heart sincerely believes in these false constructs.

—

.y

Roaches and humans are one and the same; both comprised of matter and inexplicably insignificant.

We have played the role of ‘God’ many times, assuming the supposed rights of a fictional concept designed to control masses and comfort fragile consciences.

In the vast expanse of the universe, where matter does not matter under the inescapable reign of chaos and finality, we exploit the nature of the system’s impersonality and create otherworldly “meaning.” No such thing truly exists: what we perceive is but a fragment of truth, as restricted by the receptors and processors manufactured from our biological systems. Certainly, all of this is real — but is it the truth? All sentience inevitably meets its demise and the meaning that it comprehended is lost to the void of nothingness.

That fear of finality and meaninglessness was then moulded into the shape of ‘God’ as dictated by manmade scriptures. What are right and wrong? What defines us as “human,” a term contrived by an existence that merely desires self-importance? Fear not, for all the answers are laid out. No longer tormented by thought, the riveted followers are released from the burden of despair.

How utterly envious.

I loathe my understanding of my existence. It torments me. Therefore, I will create meaning from meaningless matter — the concrete from absurdity. The compounding of coincidences and collisions gave birth to the miracle of life that remains confined by mortal shells and delusion; in exchange for my privilege, I will free us from our revolting flesh and preserve the individuality of that miracle.

The only being who could transcend our shackles is a falsity under the name of ‘God’. I will become his hand and erase us of our stigma.

—

.z

My inadequacy is a testament of my fate — that is, my limited potential as a mere animal. A dunce who will never escape the confines of mediocrity, instead wallowing in self-pity and yearning, perpetually infatuated with fantastical concepts and imaginary heroes. To become complacent is to become ignorant; to become ignorant is to devolve into brutish animality. Therefore, I mustn’t become complacent. Yet those who live in their shallow small circle of ignorance exchange that emptiness for the capacity of carefree bliss.

—

“Sickening.”

The scraps were discarded.

</aside>