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I am one of the scourge of mortals. I am not evil. I am not good either. I am, by preference, practical. Practical, in a sense, that I am evil when I am being repressed. I am good, when I feel everyone is looking up to me. But I tell you, I am better when I am bad. I am immortal, not different from you, but I have boundless energy honed and polished after many years. I am powerful and have an insatiable appetite for respect. By the way, I am 228 years old, but I feel a thousand decade. Yes, I am a vampire. Mind you, not evil or good, but a practical vampire.
Let me tell you about my goodness. With my boundless power and energy, I can easily prey on anyone. But I prefer not to. I have a sensible abstracted mind that I can justify if you are worthy to continue your existence in this surreal mass of dirt. Yes, I can take life away from mere mortals.... but with an exception. A mother and child, full of love and warmth, I will set them free. A father, a good provider of love and discipline, I will set him free. They are the kind that I can justify their worthiness to share the extreme beauty of this dirtland and the vastness of liquids flowing from the heavens that empties to a bottomless pit of mystery. I want them to be nourished with this green inhuman-like environment that grows after every turn of the sun. But they are a minority. Although I do not designate myself as their protector, I cannot fully shield them from a more powerful energy. A powerful entity that I can only describe as grotesque. But I never lose hope. I have a feeling that an ancient power is lurking behind this minority. This one, I cannot describe. I can easily get information from this minority but I refuse. I don't know, I have a feeling that I was once their own kind, covered with this power I have long ago buried to the depths of my innards. I don't know...
How about the others? What do I do to the other kinds? These are the other kinds I relish destroying. Arrogance and disrespect is their nature. These kinds are the morally wrong. But most of them are great warriors. Yes, they were once like me, I was once like them. Oppressed and deprived of the vast bounty that abounds on this dirtland. They exerted every effort to gain the share of the bounty. They gained more they can handle. They absorbed every power from the minority kind, almost draining and saturating. They never looked back. They are afraid that if they do, their effort will diminish. I cannot explain how their power developed to an extreme, almost like the grotesque power that I have described. There are legions of them. Armies. Great warriors. These kinds are skilled but they lack something. I don't know what. I can subdue them but I have to exert effort. I can be mortally wounded, but I survived most of them.
Yes, I had rampant encounters with them. I cannot avoid them. They are numerous with varying powers. They often surprise me. The less powerful wanted a piece of me to drench me off my power. Of course, I never yield. These puny immortals are no match for me. But some of them bring me down, make me weary and its a struggle with them. Most of them are my acquaintances. They are close to me. Some befriend me and take advantage of me. I am immortal, yet I am sometimes a fool. Countless daggers have been stuck on my back. Some of them, I uprooted with extreme pain. But most of them remained embedded for years. It will serve as a badge and an honor for me to be battle-scarred from devious schemes of my "acquaintances".
They are always drawn to me. My mere presence alone stirs the evil innards in them and they collect to intimidate me. But I, too powerful to subdue 10 puny immortals, cannot be intimidated. I guess I am too sly and cunning. Of a flock of 10 of these kinds, I subdue the headmaster first absorbing the mere thrusts of the others. The headmaster puts up a good fight... Great warrior... the late great warrior. I don't mean that I never lose, it’s just that I lose only battles and not wars. I never licked my wounds. It makes me even prouder. But I do cry. I cry unabashedly not for my failures but for these other kinds. Why? Because I trusted them. I even honor them, praise them and called them brothers. And when they break me down, I cry. Not your usual tears and all, but a cry of anguish. More like the cry of a banshee. I cry because I will be losing them. A cry for tragedy. Tragedy, because I cannot make them walk on this dirtland. I will destroy them from existence. I will deprive them from this material world of the things that made them what they are then and what they are now. You may sense my hatred for these other kinds. Surely you will. II spent three paragraphs just for them. I despise them like the slimy things that feed on the stinking innards of corpses that littered the plains.
I hope you understand what I am and what am I to you. My existence is the mirror of your life. Relate to me. Understand. Just knowing my existence will register a profound effect on your life. That is, if you have an open mind. You may be one of me, but refused to be. But you need not to be me. That is why you may not understand. Most of you are trapped in this cycle. /Material, Wealth and Success/. These are the basic morality of greed. My emphasis is on your life. The chance to walk on this dirtland and wade on its vast liquid, so exquisite yet so intriguing. Is your life sharing my wonder? I am no messenger. I am not being judgmental. What you need to do is help me preserve these beauties. Sow the seeds of morality. Open your mind. Remember, the one absolute power did not create Time. He created unconditional love. That is why that absolute power created you free. Free to do good and evil. In conclusion.....
"freedom is your choice,
a matter of good option...
but always bear in mind,
if you stray,
I will never hesitate to slay..."
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Article written by An
Featuring Sarah Christophers and Sugar Free