This one's for you

You are a triumph of natural selection. Beyond the petty nonsense, the neoclassical ranting, the existentialist, hopeless, histrionic moaning, you are composed of millions of molecules that have spent eons waging mankind’s most magnificent war: the fight to adapt. Soul or not, heart or shame, we are fighters. The only humans who will ever concede or wail into a cobbled corner have been conditioned to give up, and in releasing that last, shimmering glimmer of opportunity, they have become empty casks. A man without fight, timbre, or to put it simply, spirit, has sold their humanity for temporary protection from a government stationed around a hub of profit and seedy misconduct.

You have been staring down death since day one. It’s undeniable. You could’ve been strangled at birth, victim to an unruly umbilical cord. You could’ve died in the crib. You could’ve been hit by an innumerable amount of bullshit, the kind of nonsense that anyone can be whipped by at any given moment. You could’ve, but you didn’t. And just that phrase, that simple act of surviving in a world that is fueled by the dust of deceased game, makes you better. You are the cutting edge.

Your story has been one of bloodshed and depression, but you made it. From the times before recorded history, to the first agricultural settlements, spanning from the inner-Tigris, to the Nile, to North America, you have found the tools to survive, and clutching them against the very Nature that takes and gives life at any uncaring whim, you stand victorious. Don’t ever sell yourself short, for you are descendant of the civilizations that brought fire to the canals of tyranny, that banished incubus and succubi and instead placed reason and science as the cornerstone of sophistication, and who cleaved the heads of those who would dare concede, who hanged the unruly, and who enjoyed the spoils of humanity; of living. You are the branch of a tree whose roots go back to Byzantium, Rome, Carthage, and the beginnings of Democracy. You are man.