a Philosophical opinion and a job description
"Man is a social animal,"
"By nature, he is drawn to others - and he who is not, not by chance but by essence,
is either a beast or a god."
That is what Aristotle said long ago,
and centuries later, Ibn Khaldun echoed something similar.
But I have never believed it - not for a second.
I have always been alone,
since the moment I first opened my eyes.
And there is nothing in this world I loathe more than human beings.
We are toys.
Toys crafted by a god who plays for his own amusement,
watching to see who will make it to the end.
He toys with us as he pleases -
and we, the fools, the pitiful humans,
we believe in Him.
We worship Him.
We pray to Him day after day.
But for what?
He delights in our suffering.
And if I listen closely enough,
I can almost hear Him laughing from afar.
Fools.
That is what we are.
Fools, all of us.
"Whoever lives alone, untouched by the warmth of others,
is either a god, complete within himself,
or a beast, blind to the heart of humanity."
Another day. Another damned morning.
And still - the sun dares to shine.
Why?
It's winter.
The world should be gray. Cold. Dead.
Like me.
But I'm still alive.
No matter how much I drink,
no matter how many drugs I take -
my body refuses to give in.
Stubborn thing.
It clings to life like a curse I can't shake.
And it infuriates me.
Damn it.
Damn this wretched life.
I work as a prison psychologist.
Or a forensic psychologist.
I honestly forgot the name.
Fitting, isn't it?
A madwoman diagnosing madness.
All I have to do is sit across from the broken,
the violent,
the forgotten -
and decide whether they're insane enough to be treated,
or just human enough to be punished.
But honestly?
It doesn't matter.
We're all mad.
Every last one of us.
