Angels and Angels and People

I held the sun in my hand. I resolved to let it burn everything.

From my vantage it was an easy decision to make. I couldn't take the play of light and pulpy material anymore. They mingled in a way that made me uncomfortable. Through them I could see that swirling mass of disgusting flesh. I hated what we had done to them. We wanted to be the ones they could turn to, the ones that could protect them from what we made them into.

It was something we did out of desperation. We wanted them to tell stories about us, mostly just so that our own experiences could be clarified by their words. Because the truth is that we have never known what we are. Just as they don't know what the fuck happened to them, we have never understood why we have to live this way.

For a long time we just enjoyed ourselves. We can do quite a lot of things. There is a lot of room for movement in this realm. But you can only live peacefully for so long. Finally, I couldn't avoid the temptation to define myself by creating something else. I needed another being, another type of life, that would allow me to feel relative. I needed to feel like I was different. Because we are mostly the same.

Only now do I understand the fear that drove me to create them. I knew I had to melt all of them. I thought about the diffuse heat that would singe their toes and ears. I thought about the inside and the outside being united by an indiscriminate orange glow.

Unfortunately, my attempt to drop the sun was met with strong resistance. There are quite a lot of shining people just like me. They, too, wanted an identity that went beyond our individual mental attributes. Particularization wasn't enough for any of us. We wanted generality to flow through us like an unstoppable force. The rest of them seemed to be okay with it. It had lulled them into a complacency. They watched them constantly. They loved to think about the gaps that separated us. The gulf was only painful for me. My own identity had become painful for me.

But they didn't understand. They didn't want to understand. All I wanted was to return to my particular being. I wanted there to be an appreciation for all of us as individuals that wasn't corrupted by the push for generality.

I told them we had to kill our children. I told them we couldn't go on living this voyeuristic life. It was too late. They had been seduced. They were prepared to live life that way. And I wasn't so I brought war to them. I was ready to become the third layer if they were willing to stay on top. And so now I am the third layer. Now we can all define ourselves in terms of this hierarchy in which I am the shit. Now I am the one that will never be cold again.

Now they don't even think about me anymore.