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No one is exactly who I am suppose to be.
Just another dwindling plea, raging against the darkness. Just another hopeful soul striving for salvation, a salvation that I know will never come, yet am always fighting for. A salvation that quiets the pain, the malice; the end. But I know that there is nothing I can do to stop it, no matter how I plea, no matter how I fight; no matter how long we rage against this darkness. The end will always be waiting. Tucked away in the shadows, ready to leap at any given moment. No matter who I am, it will always be there. Just as it always has been; another puppet on another thread, eager to cut the strings that bind this world together.
I used to be someone. Someone who was ordinary, at first, leading a life that I can only dream of now, with troubles so meager in comparison to those of today, so pointless, that they are just the dust of history. Someone who was important, even if I didn’t know it. Who held the world dangling on a single, winding thread as fate watched, quiet, unmoving; eyes cunning as it gave me it’s power, tucking it into a pocket for me to discover. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was their solution. I was their salvation. I was the one who would counter the Collapse.
But then the word ended. Then my world fell into the hands of a cold, heartless universe; cast out into a dark reality. A reality so dark, so burdened with shadow, so hopelessly lost in an ocean of deceit, that there was nothing I could do but tell the world the truth. That fate had cut the thread, letting our world fall into a living hell. No escape. No way out. Nothing to do but fight. It brought me down to my knees. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t counter this. I couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go, nothing to plot against, just the darkness looming ever closer. When the world ended, I became no one; just another crying plea raging against the inevitable, striving for a salvation that can never come.
Yet I found a way to retaliate. I found a way to strive against the end. If we were going to die, we might as well know what we are facing. I was only the messenger. The Harbinger. A warning, telling the world to hold on, for if it let go, everything would be lost. Everything would shatter, crumble; life as we knew it would simply collapse. But life has already shattered. Our world has already crumbled. All that it needs to do is fall to its knees in submission to fate; all that is left to do is collapse. Collapse, or rage.
I used to be ordinary; then I became necessary. Now though, they are asking for me to be even better. They want me to be something more. There isn‘t anything else left to say; the message spread like wildfire, a single drop splitting into a thousand, casting the storm onwards. The Harbinger is over, gone; useless. No, what they want is something that I know no one else could do. No one who wasn’t ready to sacrifice for the possibility of salvation. No one who wanted to survive.
Fate has stopped running, stopped darting towards me with a sly glare. It isn’t inches away from our sights; we aren’t seconds away from it’s grasping fingers. It’s already here, and it wasn’t careful. Not once did it look back, not once caring and not once taking into account the success of the past and rejoicing it for use in the future. Not once did it take the moment to cast the possibilities a glance. It simply kept on coming. And now that it’s here, I don’t know what is going happen. For once, I honestly don’t know.
Sometimes I think that it has already abandoned us, the moment for us to save our world passed. Sometimes I think that the time of balance is still years away. But even then, part of me knows that it isn’t ahead of us or behind. Now, right now, the world is dangling on a thread, fate’s coiling grasp holding it in one hand, in the other, the lives of everyone who is at stake. And fate is the only one who can decide it’s outcome. Fate is the only one who has the chance to look into the glowering eyes of the past in desperate hope for forgiveness. It dropped our world once before, but now that it has managed to tighten its fingers around that single, winding string again, there is a chance. I don’t know what is going to happen, but fate hasn’t even cast a glance yet. It may never. But I do know that I won’t let it saunter on without taking a moment, just a single moment, to remember.
I remember. I know why this war raged against us, why fate never glanced back. It was afraid. They were afraid. And all they could do was run, rage, or remember. And those who chose to tip our heads into the past, the select few, realize the truth. I know the truth, now; not the lies that they whispered to me, not the false persuasion that the opposing side willed me to believe. And maybe that is why fate recoiled, taking away what it had given me; once, I had the chance to stop all of this from happening, tucked away in my pocket, awaiting discovery. And when I didn’t, fate stole the chance away from me forever. But I remember. I know the truth.
I know what I must do.
Because they wanted me to be a message. A warning. The Harbinger. They gave me a name, and I took it. But I am more than just a message. I am more than a warning; I am more than the Harbinger. I am the watcher, the guardian; the one who will fight even when the universe is piled up against me. And right now, it is.
There have been those who stand beside me, never cowering, never judging. They didn’t always follow me, and I didn’t always follow them, but we managed to persevere. As enemies or allies, we were able to spread the message, to pursue salvation, and in that pursuit, the truth dawned on us. Slowly. One by one. And that truth is inevitable. The end is coming. And all we can do is watch as it tears our world apart. We can fight together, or we can die together. The chances of survival are close to nothing. We have one last chance to convince fate. One last go. One last fight.
One last glance into the past.
Before I was the Harbinger, as soon as I learned the truth, I looked for the brightness. I clung to hope harder than anything else, because hope was all I could rely on. When others fell into the dark, I scrambled for the light, and willed myself to see a salvation that wasn’t there, a way to sidestep that moment where the world is dangling, hopeless, on a thread, just waiting for the string to snap.
But now, my eyes are giving out. The light in the world seeping away, subject to the eternal darkness that looms ever closer to its prize; in a way, it’s already here. But when it does, when all that light truly blinks out of existence, then a message won’t do anything. A message will simply portray our fate; but fate has its own plans. This world is all I have left, all that I have ever had. I will rage for it. I will fight for it. I will die for it. There will be consequences. There will be sacrifices. But it’s all we can do. Fight. Survive. Persevere, no matter the cost.
Before this, I had a normal life. Normal schedule, normal family. No murder, no plots against the planet, no nothing; simply a life of ordinariness. Then I had a chance; to spread the word and free the planet of the ignorance that had bound it for so long, chained with burning cuffs, simply waiting for the execution. I told them what would happen. I told them of a moment, where as the world was about to lose everything, someone would emerge who knew that there was nothing to lose. That’s who I thought I could be, then. The one who would sacrifice herself for a planet carrying a million other lives of a million other people. I thought I would be the one to give myself up in hopes of letting a salvation settle into the world. Now, though, I do know the truth. I know who I am. I know how this is going to end.
Before, I had nothing to lose.
But now, I realize that I will have to lose everything.
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"Respect existence or expect resistance"