Depression, alienation, and isolation; these meld to form the norm. I despise. I loathe. I hate. And I disdain. I am quick to judgment, incapable of thought or attentiveness. I am modern man – the most bungled of perfect creatures. Crudely sophisticated distractions numb the pain, repress my destructive fury, and allow me to put on that glorious smile dripping saccharine; the image makes it all okay. We learn too well, are too easy to train, and malleable for all sorts of tasks. We learn well and forget to think.
Man loathes his mortality and envious of the eternal cosmos. He desires a grand reduction, to bring eternity into individual mortality. Those who pursue greatness unto death brings the world into the self and refuses humanity. He wants to walk among gods by annihilating the imperfection known as man. The universe is no larger than his enclosure. He grins as he stares through the screen door, watching the bugs slam into each other and plummet to earth. All is well. All is mine, as lord of minutia. But, the bars of the cage are still there in spite of particular delusions of grandeur. The universe brought into the self is no larger than two bugs colliding into each other. The world will go on without him, as it will go on without the bugs. As individual, man is no god, simply a deluded bug. In togetherness, he stands in fellowship with life and the universe.
