Apocalypse

There are quite a few number of way to be the roulette ball that chooses what happens next in the alarming number of sequences intertwined into random utterings of subtle insults from someone living inside one's head. This is like telling me to forget what I already won't. At least for this lifetime.

All started with green, like most days. No one reads the warnings. I don't think there was one either. This however was meant to be. Like someday we would have gone there. There seems no legitimate reason, but exactly that might be the reason, a paradox written for me, flowing down with the hourglass' fine sand - the finest of all this earth.

I can still argue forever the reasons, build make-belief castles and snow cones and apple pies and hot sunny beaches to forget and be happy. But there is that safe-lock of memories from Inception, where that guy hides his darkness. No matter how hard you try, you come out different, like there is something less every time. You start trusting your ground, the one beneath the water because you felt it to be true, solid. It's not her fault, not really. There was this Moon's diurnal when I think about it. The one everyone usually forgets.

Following were some constant flashes of foam on top of saline and sand, people screaming which was like some Korean movie playing on mute. Yet, there was no tunnel and the whole light and then write a book kind of situation. What really happened was that everyday stuff and people saved another season, and I was just about in the middle. In the end, you feel purer, calmer, better, useful, mature, born. It is like cancelling the apocalypse, and then climbing to the head and shooting right between her eyes with the old sawed-off shotgun. This team did. 

The Watchmen

Hypothetical world has only one kind of job. To watch others. They change shifts, they switch places. One being watched becomes the one who is watching. They make records, logs. Then there are others, like a few hundred thousand billions, who support this enterprise. The ones who cook, the ones who manage and the ones who check. Then there are people. Like us. We are hidden. Living in darkness, under their cloud.

Forgotten, like we never even existed. Shutdown in this slum underneath. A world lit by the corporations that formed during the renaissance. They stand on our heads when people die. They die because of hunger and helplessness. They do not speak now. They do not cry either. They know their probable future and watch other eat the dead. Survival.

I see all this through this small hole I dug. I made it out of that place now! I can watch. I can watch everything. I can now.

Begin.

P.S: Read this in the voice of Tyler Durden.