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The Enthusiast

There never was a calm before the storm. The universe hit the ground running, as all of its children are wont to do, and ran and ran and ran all the way over the river and through the woods and off the side of the world’s end one dimension at a time, in what was undoubtedly a galactic show to behold. This was unfortunately what the bulk of name-brand, ancient mystery sects were always on about. And so, our last hope is for a calm in the aftermath of the storm, should it ever finally exhaust its own running and meet its own end; sputtering into the abyss as all of its own children are wont to do. Every generation passionately believes that the end is nigh, but thus far none have proven so fortunate. After all, hope is a luxury no different from other luxuries, in that it invariably gets wasted by all those who would depend on it for filling the void.

The money you spent on that game could have fed somebody. For the price of a single comic book you could provide a meal for a homeless refugee, whether domestic or immigrant. But your chosen echo chamber assures you that such a statement is unfairly moving goal posts while already comparing apples and oranges. The environment you embrace promises you that you have earned the right to deprive others of what they need, just as those seated closer to the head of the proverbial table than yourself have rightfully deprived you of a life more worthwhile than playing computer games or collecting funny books or going to the cinemas; shovel-fed talking points and artificial culture. Oh, the ballads that will be sung in your memory! Each and every comic you possess is a meal denied somebody, but you are a good person because you…consume. Besides, you can only possibly do what is expected of you by your peer group anyway, the same as anyone else and the same as it ever was. Is it not enough of a personal sacrifice that all of your opinions must originate from fictional characters, whether cartoons or professional news presenters, who are designed for nothing but repeating or reacting to contrived, unrealistic story beats? You deserve to escape from the burden of being a replaceable footnote to a statistic in a marketing demographic. Your entertaining is of far greater importance than others finding the shelter and sustenance necessary to stay alive. Putting it all on the wealthiest, the most selfish of the population, is excusing your own selfishness in the matter while just giving away to said wealthiest all the power over your own life.

Insist on your own powerlessness. Rationalize in its favor, and express enthusiasm for anything but helping others. If there is reluctance toward giving your everything to those who need it, then why the absolute zealotry toward giving your everything to those who simply want it?

That is what the coyotes are bothered with. How you might explain away the fact that these words are aimed at you implicitly.