Martyr

To my mother, my sister, my father, my brother.
To my neighbor, my coworker, my fellow human, my friend.

I write you this letter not in desperation, not in fear, not in sorrow. These words are a dialogue of sorts, a proclamation of why I have left this mortal coil and join in the ranks of the otherworldly. Do not pity me, as I was not weak in my decision, nor impulsive in it's deduction. These words, this song, is a chronicle of all I am.

Life, even mine, average at best, elates me to such supreme happiness. The world is an amazing, tranquil, destructive place. The sheer fact that an oversized rock can orbit around a gaseous fireball, and sprout an ecological masterpiece is nothing short of divinity. And in this, the fact that we have many creatures, gifted with sentience is so intensely beautiful, words cannot describe it. It is as if, truly, our entire existence is nothing short of absolute impossibility.

But look how we treat such a statistical anomaly? Like foul trash, we discard it and scavenge it to it's bitter core, leaving is desolate and barren, in what seems to be a natural plan to lead back to the incomprehensible normality of the rest of existence. We make this choice, consciously, and only look back with a guise of disgust, never truly taking time to allow the impact of our actions to sink in. We, like worker ants, seek to return our life to the once constant energy around around us - the cold grasp of death.

And what's more, how do we treat our remarkable sentience? Bigotry, slavery, rape, theft, murder, incompassion, selfishness. We are gifted, indeed blessed, with a moral compass that steers us away from these, an innate empathy for those who share our existence. Yet we refuse to follow the path. We seek only to better ourselves, and leave the others behind. Power-seeking, foul humans polute the world far worse than trash and decay.

And look amongst society? Thieves and cutthroats extolled and elevated to the highest positions in society, treated as living deities unquestioning. These rich, these powerful, the piranha of the shallow pool of society, seeking to rip asunder any unguarded soul that cross their path, only to feed their hollowed stomach to grow hungry once more. Competing with one another to determine who has accumulated the most sin and defilement in their life. Scum. Retched, poor excuses of what should be praised.

And what of love, or most powerful emotion? Sold. Given away to those who would sooner smother the life from the givers twitching body than to accept it into their own heart. Perversions of love traded for acceptance, to mesh into a world which treats shame as currency and manipulation as water. Drink up, foul prostitutes, and accept your love as taint.

At last, we come to the noble men and women. Those who honestly seek to better the lives of others at the sacrifice of your own. To give so openly is truly beyond reproach. And yet, no matter your charity, the slightest slip will summon the piranha upon you quicker and more viciously than any soul before. Those who try a life of good are mocked, beaten, tarnished, and slain, all for attempting an act of good straight from the soul itself. Martyrs, all of you, for being torn by hyenas when trying to grant them a voice past their petty cackle.

And now, I rest. I go peacefully, and happily, to leave this world of sour carrion feeders. And yet, I face the irony that to willfully remove my own breath is, in essence, the total violation of what this world intended for me. I was not strong enough to find my voice and speak out amongst the cacophonous truths of this world. I sleep now, no long burdened by the heavy blanket that I could not hate this world as much as it deserved, but loved it too much stand by and let it rot.

At least, in hell, evils are punished.

(Original date 1/21/2010)