Whatever We Call Living
I may or may not suffer from a classic case of misanthropy, but let me tell you something: We, humans, are sick. Think about this: we’re the only ones who seemingly always manage to complicate everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. I don’t mind complicating things if it improves whatever is currently existing. However, most complications done by humans end up making shit worse. We take what’s there and turn it into shit. We steal, lie, bribe, cheat, and do other unspeakable things just to “live.” That, or to “improve.” Now, you’ll never find a shortage of people trying to sell the idea that the end is nigh, and it’s up to you whether to believe them or not, but I’m all for it. We, humans, are a fucking plague. Mother nature would be much, much better off without us. Don’t believe me? Look no further: money. The concept of money is hella absurd since a body of government that’s prone to corruption regulates and puts value into it, and people would just eat it all up. I like