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<blockquote data-quote="Apollo Tenzen" data-source="post: 57814" data-attributes="member: 271">[ATTACH=full]10808[/ATTACH]That feeling that everything is raw, infected, rotting, like I think a dog died close to where I live because no one cared, even when he was a good dog, wanting to get food as people walked past. Like a feeling that every interaction is actually folded like cold weather, like trying to sleep when the weather is cold and humid, making the sheets feel like someone peed there. Here, when you just don’t clean enough, insects and cockroaches appear out of nowhere; not taking a bath for a day makes you smell like a living corpse. Everything is alive and death at the same time, in a perpetual state of mental slavery it seems—they can’t see the future, and the present choices slowly poison them. It’s like never growing up, never maturing, never reaching responsibility, like you always get weaker, fatter, uglier. It’s a drag just to have the basics. Since everyone is evil and worshipping a dead god, the entire society is built upon who cares, let’s party next weekend, even if it means blowing up all the savings, getting in debt, being a slave to a shitty job with five kids depending on it, and getting cancer. All the consequences never hit; all the evil has no repercussions. The dog’s death has no meaning, the old lady rotting in the kitchen won’t matter. Someone could launch a nuclear bomb anywhere in Brazil and it still wouldn’t matter—people would go God bless us and fall asleep next Sunday.Maybe I should start a quiet rebellion: to be a good Roman citizen among barbarians, maybe smiling at the neighbor, cleaning up the trash, feeding the stray dogs, helping people in need, talking with the girls in entry-level jobs, exposing corruption, standing up for others, forming alliances instead of getting aggressive at fat people.God is dead, but that doesn’t mean I should act like he does.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Apollo Tenzen, post: 57814, member: 271"] [ATTACH type="full"]10808[/ATTACH] That feeling that everything is raw, infected, rotting, like I think a dog died close to where I live because no one cared, even when he was a good dog, wanting to get food as people walked past. Like a feeling that every interaction is actually folded like cold weather, like trying to sleep when the weather is cold and humid, making the sheets feel like someone peed there. Here, when you just don’t clean enough, insects and cockroaches appear out of nowhere; not taking a bath for a day makes you smell like a living corpse. Everything is alive and death at the same time, in a perpetual state of mental slavery it seems—they can’t see the future, and the present choices slowly poison them. It’s like never growing up, never maturing, never reaching responsibility, like you always get weaker, fatter, uglier. It’s a drag just to have the basics. Since everyone is evil and worshipping a dead god, the entire society is built upon [I]who cares, let’s party next weekend[/I], even if it means blowing up all the savings, getting in debt, being a slave to a shitty job with five kids depending on it, and getting cancer. All the consequences never hit; all the evil has no repercussions. The dog’s death has no meaning, the old lady rotting in the kitchen won’t matter. Someone could launch a nuclear bomb anywhere in Brazil and it still wouldn’t matter—people would go [I]God bless us[/I] and fall asleep next Sunday. Maybe I should start a quiet rebellion: to be a good Roman citizen among barbarians, maybe smiling at the neighbor, cleaning up the trash, feeding the stray dogs, helping people in need, talking with the girls in entry-level jobs, exposing corruption, standing up for others, forming alliances instead of getting aggressive at fat people. God is dead, but that doesn’t mean I should act like he does. [/QUOTE]

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