“Perhaps that’s every writer’s dream. To destroy the minds of others…”
The strangeness of our lives. Always seeking the truth, yet forever hiding from the cold light of day. In plain sight, we deceive ourselves with such trivial matters. Things that are worthless, that mean less than nothing. Sometimes we get sidetracked, but not very often. Some great despair makes us stop and think. Some damned illness causes us to question the nature of our existence. Then we get better, and everything is as it was. The system works. We’re happy in slavery, and there’s no way we can even begin to deny it. And yet if only we could dissolve the structure of how things are. If only we could somehow change what binds us to such mediocrity, then this boring world would fall apart. Perhaps that’s every writers dream. To destroy the minds of others. To bring society to its knees with a new way of seeing. Whilst others…
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