On Society: The Omnipotent Being

God, do I hate God.

A god like this is unworthy of any worship. It boils my blood to see my fellow earthlings, wasting their time by devoting it to this cruel and sadistic being.

I do not want to confuse the reader by being ambiguous with which god I’m pertaining to. I’m talking about the omnipotent god (I have no problem with the Greek, Norse, and Egyptian gods), especially the Christian God.

An omnipotent being that is capable of doing anything and everything. . . Or so they say. This god has a tragic flaw that makes it one of the worst beings in existence. It’s bored. This god, this almighty god, this omniscient, omnipotent, omni-present god, is bored.

With all the powers of the cosmos and beyond, this god can do everything except live in contentment (which is a quite the human characteristic. Ironic, isn’t it?) Why does an all-powerful being have to create a universe? A world? Life? People? Because this god is far too bored to just lay around idly. It must create us. And what does it do with us? It toys with us.

It gives us free will just to watch us fall and strive and hurt and toil, then veils its cruelty with the ridiculous excuse that it loves us and that’s why it tests us. This god is just an eight year old child who buys an ant farm, watches them live in harmony, grows tired of them, then pours water into the ant farm and snickers as the ants die.

Zealots, is this the god you love?! One that plays with the lives it created out of sheer boredom! This is no divine being. This is a monster.

I have no problem with strife. I’m human. I cannot live complacently. I must always work hard, fall, stand up, and then work harder. I appreciate the system. I just find the thought of a god, who get its sick kicks by watching the life it created struggle in pain and do nothing about it to be disgusting.

I refuse to believe in such a demented omnipotent being. Omnipotent, what kind of bullshit is that anyway? A god like that is better off as fiction.

Fuck god. I am my own god.

This has been Fict Ion, bidding you a good day.

All Intellectual Rights Belong To DAVE CUTLER.

Ruminations of A Dead Reptile

The body of my marred prey lay before me, gruesome, torn, bloody, and dead. I killed him with no remorse, biting his back, lifting him helplessly into the air, shaking him violently until his meat was cleaved off by my teeth. It was brutal. But I couldn’t help it; I was hungry.

I ate most of him, leaving the scraps for the scavengers to feast on. I would mourn for my prey if it were at all possible, yet I felt neither the inclination or the will do so. In fact, I don’t think I can feel at all. It’s all survival to me. That’s the only reason I kill, to survive. I have no ulterior motive! What would I gain from from a pointless murder?

I left the scene to wander through the vast jungle, avoiding all the possible adversaries. Life here was harsh and unforgiving, living in one moment, dead in the next. I treaded the land cautiously, not daring get cocky just because I’m an apex killer. Just because I’m a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I heard rustling somewhere in the trees. The jungle was so dense with plant life that it was difficult to pinpoint the origin of the rustling. Sounds of brisk dashes and calls to action started to multiply around me. I could sense an assault arrive; it was inevitable. All I could do was prepare myself for the strike.

A pack of Raptors, fifteen or so, rushed at me from all fronts. I stood my ground and managed to fend off some of the ones attacking my left. But it was hopeless. They out-maneuvered me, causing me to thrash frantically. I’ve seen this seen scene countless of times, the death of the prey. I guess it was bound to happen to me. Eventually, I fell due to exhaustion. The victors now rejoiced as they ripped my body apart.

I felt no qualms. Life is like that. We live and die.

Death is natural and it was now claiming me. It was the end of this fine predator. A new one will replace me in the future, a ruthless one. One that has the audacity to see itself to be far greater than all other living creatures. One that cannot be satisfied by the essential. One that kills everything without purpose or hesitation. One that is capable of burning this world.

I am glad to die during this era. An era that was simple. An era that catered to the progress of life, not its demise. An era when beauty was abundant in every step and turn. An era without humans.

ALL INTELLECTUAL RIGHTS BELONG TO DAVE CUTLER.

On love: The Initial Stage

I’ve always been a romantic. Since I was 5, the age when I got my first kiss to the cheek, I’ve been searching for love.

I understood what love meant to me. It’s the only divine emotion that we humans have and it’s the only human emotion that I agree with. It is the sole emotion that eludes the descriptions of an eloquent tongue, and the sole emotion that eludes the comprehension of the majority.

I cannot try to explain it. It’s impossible for me. But I can explain my beliefs on how I treat love.

I disagree with those who believe that the light and warm feeling they feel is love. It is not. It’s the initial syndrome of love. It fades. It burns out. And you’d be a fool for wishing it was still ablaze, Feather.

I treasured that early stage of love. It was easy and simple. Like the soft brush of the sandy summer air. It felt like rapture. But it was only momentary, and I knew that. Once it left me, I was smiling. I was excited to run head first at the other phases of love. Determined that I’ll make it.

Feather felt otherwise. She missed (misses) that feeling of initial romance. She longed for it. She craved for it.

Feather, if you’re reading this, please listen to me. Let go of your craving. It’s over. Days will never be as light and comfortable as they used to be. But don’t worry. It doesn’t mean that I won’t be sweet to you anymore. I’m just saying that you can’t recognize sweetness anymore. You’ve grown numb to it. Even the most saccharine of sugars will taste bland in your mouth.

But I’ve never stopped being sweet with you. Remember all those 6-8 lined text stories that I would make for our monthsaries? It would take me at least 30 minutes to make them. Do you remember that sand sculpture of your name? It may not look like much, but my hands bled when I made that. I felt no pain though. I never feel pain when I do something for you.

Please. Let go and move on with me. I want you to walk next to me. Waiting for all the crazy turns in life. Waiting, forever, together.

That concludes my first post. Please stay tuned for my next posts.

This has been Fict Ion, bidding you a pleasant day.

All Intellectual Rights Belong To DAVE CUTLER.

Opener.

I wrote this all to voice who I am to someone I love. So that she may finally understand what I want to say. So that she’ll understand all of me. And so that she’ll see what I want.

 

To give her some privacy, let me just refer to her as Feather.

I’ve been going out with her for a while. I love her. And for sometime now, I thought she loved me. Oh don’t get us wrong! She didn’t cheat on me or any of that garbage. She’s just confused on what she really feels for me.

So I can’t say that she loves me. I do wish it though. I wish it were so.

Feather put me through a lot of  pain. But I made her suffer too. We are both in the wrong. But I digress.

I’ll be talking about my love life with Feather and some of my personal beliefs. On what love is. What life is. What I’ve done. And how I feel.

 

My name is Fict Ion. And I bid you a good day.

 

Intellectual Rights Belong To DAVE CUTLER.