Dread

xe/she/any

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In death, we are all the same. . .



We are not afraid. It's expected of every mortal who exists on this plane of realism. People make their lives as best and controlled as possible, differing in status much, if not all, of the time. There are kings for peasants, rulers for commoners, and pets for owners. They all fall under their place easily and not with struggle, but with argument instead. However, they understand there is nothing they can do about it, not unless they push themselves, striving hard enough to fight against the "normal".

They are strong.
But, their efforts and struggles will be meaningless.

It doesn't matter who is who, or what is what. In the end, we all partake in similarity, for none of us have purpose anymore; none of us are higher than the other, nor lower than the other. We have nothing that could tell us apart, nothing that could make us distinctive. We have no flaws; we have no advantages; we have no differences; we have no perfection.

One may think that, when they meet us, they believe we have a disadvantage; our sight is plagued by these bubbles of pestilence growing all around our vision. That, perchance, could be true, but once we fade from present time, existing only in the past, it will disappear; we would have nothing of the sort anymore, changing into just like everyone else. Blind, all the comparison, destined to see the same; destined to feel the same; destined to hear the same; destined to be the same.

We wish those idiots who call themselves immortal perish the most painful. They are foolish to believe they can live forever like that. Yes yes, they can conquer and pillage, having their brutish name enscribed onto the stones of history, but deeper inside will they never change. Even then, their titles could always be forgotten by the newer ages, fated to wither away like the rest of those who were temped with the desire to live on past their own expiration date.



We are all the same. . . .exception will never exist. . . . .

lore by GubYub