Oh, what a horrid act it is, to acknowledge a request for attention, and to ignore it. To hear a whimper, a plea for evident sentience, and to deny that. Wherefore lie a crime in innocent blunder, to have mistakenly craved a residence in reality? Pure malice it is, malice whose hunger has been fed by distinct selfishness, a void pretense in truth, which is possessed by the foolish.
One need not strike another sentient being, to have inflicted a penalty on his victim. Penalties of pain, sorrow, and even madness. Some of which penalties, he will have undoubtedly experienced, and, yet, is willing to curse another with?
If one had considered these things before having denied said request for his fellow's existence, which is kept solely on the will of those around him, he would likely not have presented the same response.
If man is actually so mindless to one another, only true to himself, how is he, as a whole, expected to survive as a species? It could not happen. Without attempt to comprehend another's motivations one is helpless to contribute to the well being, the sanctity of his own. Of society.
Pain, sorrow, madness, all inflicted upon man, upon one another, so carelessly, and unreal to those around he who is inflicted. How is he to stabilize as a nation, one unity in the universe within which all things might be connected and divine, to all of reality?
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A Step Into The Organization of a Disease Ridden Mind
A few organized (painstakingly toiled, of course) thoughts, of a cluttered disease ridden mind.
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