Despair & Apathy
Another signal into the almighty silence of apathy, words wasted on deaf ears, goodwill vanquished into a vanishing void. Why do anything, that silence said with words that seem to hook you at the lips of your soul. Why do anything, you then said to yourself with your own soul’s lips, speaking a question whose force destroyed the possibility of your mind producing a valid answer, spoken with the insinuation that steamrolls your faculties of reason and articulation, eliciting the same silence as that from which it came.
People blinded by the light of their knowledge and the veil of their ignorance. People living out their nostalgia and forgetting it’s just memory. Who dares speak or stand up finds themselves intimately reacquainted with the booming voice of mass silence, remembering all too well why they stayed hush and low. Why do anything, it said, incepting the answer into your mind through the force of the question, defeating your ability to even think of a valid response for the piercing insinuation — why do anything?
And when you found an answer given to you by someone outside the silence like a care package into the life-imitating arena of the Hunger Games, like an answer to a prayer for an answer delivered on the back of an angel, despair knew it was his time to speak and stand up, he said, Do Nothing. And you had no answer, for there was no question, and he was you, and who are you to disobey yourself?
Who are we to distinguish who we are from what we think and feel? Who are we to reflect and reflect upon our reflections til we discover, forget and remember what’s real? To personify and fictionalise, storytell and play wise, play dumb and realise with more than one set of eyes? Who are we if not despair and apathy? If you do anything, anything at all, don’t ask me.
