User:Unedible/You Fail

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4 August 2007

Everywhere -- People across the planet continue to struggle through their miserable lives only to die in despair. Life for humanity has been nothing more than humiliating hardships from cradle to grave and vexation of spirit, where the hopes and dreams of countless billions are shattered and broken so all that is left are husks of humans who die whimpering. Woe unto he who was born in this world and must witness the evils which are done under the sun!

There are no other sorrows which can compare with the sorrows of Man, who must toil all the days of his life to retire in Florida and die from prostate cancer. You think anything you do in your life matters to anyone at all? Think again; all your works will disappear like your footprints in the sand as you shrivel up into a ball and die from thirst in the vast desert of human apathy where even your own children and grandchildren become strangers, and you cease to exist even in memory. Generations are born, and the only relief they ever find from the stage act they call their lives are the deaths which claim them.

Or, perhaps you have material things with which to comfort you through life. Maybe a home theatre, a nice car, the best satellite television subscription in your local area, and friendly acquantices who put on a mask of sociability, but who are jealous of your house on the hill and of your wife, and would smile all the same as they deliver the killing blow when you are down on your knees and a sufficiently defenseless victim for them.

What do you have when nothing man makes with his own hands can last forever? Will you brag about the new car as you lay on your deathbed? Do you accumulate Made in China trinkets while never altering the world for the better in your entire lifetime? Then you would be remembered only by the inscription on your tombstone, and in the brief thoughts of mourners attending your funeral deciding whether they have more to fear from life or death. And so they spite you for attaining respite from the burdens of living which, like the new lawnmower, did not go with you into your long cold slumber six feet under.