Sometimes it’s like I don’t exist to other people. They hardly exist to me after all, they are close but separate. Like theres a pane of soundproof glass in between me and other people and all I can do is watch people destroy themselves. It’s easy for me to say I could have helped them when everything is clearer in hindsight.

Like a war. Everybody is confused and scared but they always end the same. People die, it ends, and we pick ourselves up, add a few patches here and there and carry on.

I never understood war. It’s like the phrase “the pen is mightier than the sword”. War is the most sadistic counterproductive thing I could think of! Is it much more immediately satisfying to punch somebody in the face? Fuck yeah it is! But that only lasts for a day. The key to winning anything at all is to educate.

People are always going to oppose what they don’t understand.

The only people who are a threat is an idiot with power, or an intelligent man amongst sheep waiting to be herded. He may start off as a good man but it’s so much easier to tell somebody to do something than to do it yourself. Thus he becomes a dictator; dehumanising those working for him and becoming the idiot with power.

Short Story #3

It is not often that I come down to earth. In all honesty I don’t think I ever have. I am always spinning and whirling through the cosmos, kissing the moon every night and the sun every morning. I don’t come down to earth, I just graze the atmosphere. Slowing… slowing… stopped. For this blink of an eye, an insignificant second I am not caught up in my celestial party but instead I am observing life on earth in all of it’s glories and miseries.

Once I stopped above a forest somewhere. I don’t know the time, or location, only that it was a forest. It seemed to exist outside of the normal realm of existence just as I do. While paused I bore witness to the hatching of three bird eggs in their nest. The baby birds had decided that they were ready to meet their strange little world and so had freed themselves from their shells.  I whispered about it to the stars that night. I swear that they burnt a little brighter.

That was one of the earths glories.

But where there is happiness there must be misery also, for how else are you to appreciate happiness? The misery I witnessed was somewhere very barren. Lots of mud, no sun, and not an awful lot of comfort to be seen on any of the faces I was inspecting. Once more I’m unable to tell you of the time or location. All I can tell you is the look on the adult faces, or rather the lack of expression. The blankness reminded me of the black holes that I must avoid in my bliss. Hundreds of people somehow plastered with nothing. Babies squirming, and small children drawing in the mud and clutching their clothes tight to their shoulders. It made my stomach twist up very tight. For a long time afterwards I couldn’t attach myself to any shooting stars or comets. Instead I hovered over the bad place and silently hoped for their troubles to end.

There have been cities full of rioting, crowds of mourners, parades, weddings. So much pain. It should drive me away, it does most. But the endurance of the people I see is fascinating to me. I’ve never stayed in one place for longer than a day on earth, I have no concept of love or struggle, pain or joy, anger or mischievousness. In some ways the people of earth are much more volatile than any supernova.