Friday, August 3, 2007

What I've Done...

So yes. It happened. In the blink of an I. Eye should have known better. No wait that was wrong. 'Twas my eye that blinked and I who should have known better. No matter, minor things like these cease to have significance in the face of tragedy.

And so the bitter wind blows the clichés into my head. Filling the sails of my mind's ship as it plows through the waves of shame, despair and regret. So follow the clichés like dolphins to a fisherman's boat and so they are trapped in the net of my creative stagnation and absence of proper substance so as to be less blasé to you. The unlucky one. The reader of this journal of emotional void. And yet it is not a void, rather a deep dark pit with spikes and razor lined walls. A pit in which lie a multitude of flesh eating cockroaches and their voracious larvae intent on feeding upon the bowels of man. The hunks of manflesh. Bipedal meat.

But I digress. In my hour of darkness the distractive intrigue of a 'pit of death', by no means bottomless, serves to bring my mind away from the very topic that drives me to convert this post to emotive rambling. However I must emphasise that this post is not merely a personal one. Nor is it by any means an "emo" post however much it might seem so at the moment. Bear with me or bare with me. Actually, give me warning before you do so that I can close my eyes. Much appreciated.

It started off with a footstep. One footstep that would forever stifle the life of that poor innocent organism. The little thing merely trying to live in this harsh world of UV radiation, free Al cations and the occasional lack of sunlight. But it had persevered. Nobody knew how long it strove to live, to pass on the information so terribly important, the burden it carried. What was that information? Now nobody will know. All because of a footstep. One single footstep.

The crunch was the punchline. The culmination of all the endured hardship. Poor little thing it stood no chance. With that crunch came the end of the toil of generations, the failure of the masses of individuals that lived and died such that this creature, this thing, could pass a message to the future. A message of hope to the masses, to the collected collection of its kind. A message never to be sent. Gone in the blink of an eye. With the lowering of a foot and a slight crunchiness.

And so befell a great tragedy. However that's not the worst of it. Worse is the fact that it could have been avoided. What I wouldn't give that I might take back my actions, neither purposeful nor in hot blood, and let the messenger through to do its work. I doomed a species. I doomed a race. I doomed a provider for perhaps the simplest of food chains that grows into the most significant of food webs. I doomed it and by doing so, I have doomed us all. Such is the Butterfly Effect. Such is the fate of the world. Repent not for you will pass anyway. Cry not for it will be to no avail. Noone can save you now.

"Except perhaps Christine," you say. Nay, even Miss Daaé can do nothing.

But now as eukaryotic macrolife draws to its end, the world deserves to know the truth. You, dear reader and the rest of the visibly living world deserve to understand that it was by no group effort that your existence draws to a close. No. It was solely an individual action. An accident as it were. I can only say that I hope, for your sake, that death is all that you expect it to be. Now, mass extinction faces us all and thus marks the renaissance of the evolution of bacteria to more large organisms such as you and me are now but not much longer. Perhaps they will be more perfect. It matters not anymore to us who are about to die.

Yes, it all happened because of me. Because I acted without thought. Because I stepped off the pavement in carelessness. Because I killed that important little thing before it could be pollinated. Because I stepped on a flowering daisy.

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