My life for all theirs. Is that what this is? Selling ourselves so others can experience joy. Being told what to believe and what to think and what is and is not okay. Being told that it is our fault while they dance on the ruins. We are doomed.

I am no longer worth saving. Washed up and washed out. Useless and failed. Doomed. Sell me for parts at this point, not like those would have much value. Too much hard living. Still they laugh. Still they roll in their endless wealth while we struggle every minute for just a glimpse of that life. The ones left down here in the scraps of the world. The ones born too late. The ones forced to live with this cosmic mistake.

The greatest epiphany I ever had was the one when I realized that living shouldn’t feel this bad. Life should not be just constant pain and struggle to get nowhere. Life should be something filled with passion and joy. Life should be what I once felt. Life should be that which I can no longer feel.

Taken from me. The ability to find a point. The ability to feel joy. The ability to feel. Taken from me. Torn from me. So harvest my organs, drain my blood, you are all just vampires in one way or another.

Maybe there is peace to be had. Maybe some generation after mine will feel it. The generations before mine did. The ones after the war and before the current one. The coming one. The war that they are pressing us to. The one they need. They need to reset, to wipe out some debt and drop some bodies. Reduce the population.

Go to the safe places. The time is coming. Stay away from the coasts.

Drain me now while you still can. Get every cent. I am worth nothing more. Soon we will have to fight. Fight for a survival we will not want. But we will fight any way. We will fight because there is nothing else to do, because we are too stubborn to kneel. We will fight.

We will be sloughed off this planet like dead skin. Only the ones who caused this will remain. That is the way of things. Nothing is fair, happy endings are rare. No hero’s, only martyrs and the nameless dead. I wish it could have been different.

I can feel these things in my bones. Deep inside the part of me that is still connected to the real. The part that still sees the truth. It knows we are doomed. The undercurrent of fear and pressure we all feel. That is this part trying to remind you that things are not supposed to be this way. That something must give. That the end has already started, and we just failed to see it.

I am sorry.

We are doomed.

We deserve it.

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