No, I will not monetize

You don't need to be a horse to write about a horse. Fuck no. But you'll never know how it feels to be made to work all day and then be tied to a stump. A good kick up the rump would do well to wake anyone up. It all begins when you wake up your and open your eyes at the beginning of each day, burp, stretch and bring to its germination, another unremarkable day.

Its a hard life. And maybe these attempts to make it easier for those who surround us are nothing more than mere supplication of our own monsters, which require to be fed the succour of good deeds that make our sense of self relevant in a mockingly cruel world. Our humanity, is it really a true desire to do good or is it merely a desire to stay relevant to our conception of what we believe ourselves to be as human beings; inherently good. 

When I pay my bills at the end of each month, I only see the numbers move around in my bank account. The sums that go out would be staggering in cash, but its a dispassionate little rise and fall of numbers, numbers so disassociated with the idea of anything real. Is it the same with murder and genocide. I just see the reports on tv and on the internet, detached and distant from me, images that appear when I type a key word into google. No crisp notes under my fingers, no earth shattering screams. Why do I need a physical version to make a thing believable? It is with utter disgust and convenience that I continue to live in my disconnected bubble. Its ironic that I am more wired and aware than I have ever been in my life and yet I am disconnected from anything that I am aware about. A visit to the online banking page, the rise and fall of a few more numbers, a donation to the UNHCR and the circle is complete.