Why? Why should I love this world? What do I owe to it? Why should I love a world in which I was born, to simply die.
To never make a real mark on the world; to know my inevitable fate is nothing short of maddening.
Over and over it is said that knowledge is power, but I am here to correct that statement, as it is highly incorrect. As a race we know too much and gain too little. However we keep searching, in vain hope we'll found ourselves out of this mess.
We know there's always a reason for everything, and know how to find the solution. We know how to reach into others hearts, and we know too many ways of breaking them. We know what makes the world tick, and even pretend to understand things beyond it. We know more that any other species, or at least we think so.
But the most ruthlessly cruel thing we know is something that we created. We created our own cage around us and forgot to make a key. The knowledge of this monstrosity is what haunts me and refuses to detach itself from it's