Debaucherous
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2011
- Messages
- 19
Latest post from http://debaucherous.wordpress.com twitter @debaucherous1
He sat and watched a fly die. It wasn't much of a fly, a small fruit fly, or perhaps just a fruit fly as it didn't seem small for a fruit fly. He felt like some sort of benevolent force staring down upon the struggle against gravity and the surface tension of its watery circumstance. The physics of the situation was ensuring the fly would drown, it couldn't buzz its wings as fast as polar water molecules loved themselves. He could reach in with a divine finger and with very little effort change the course of its path, he could let the fly fly, to do something of minimal gain to itself or its fly friends. He didn't really like the fly, no more or less than any other fly but it hadn't ever done anything to gain his favour. As the fly struggled he could see the intensity, the outcry and the futile fight for its innate desire to continue its consciousness. He pretended he understood the fly, imagined it was crying out for help and he was listening, that even from a distance the fly somehow knew that his presence was detected and heard. He pictured the angst and anguish, whittling down the will of the determined creature and its recognition that the presence of the benevolent being was not favouring it. Peering closer he wished the best for the valiant fly, but if he saved this fly, he would have to question why he saved this fly from perishing. Why not another insect, why not that fly's colony? The fly didn't benefit him ever, infact fruit flies did nothing but complicate any situation and there were far better things to do than to save fruit flies from a watery grave. He recognized in himself that he wasn't one to be behaving without due cause, and his actions should fall in line with his principles, so prevent the fly's demise would necessitate the addition of a new paradigm; he was now a force that saved flies sometimes, for reasons presently unknown. This was a character trait he didn't think needed to be added to his list, one that said he wasn't confident in his actions, or of their logical origin. The fly needed to die out of necessity, or rather it needed to come to its own conclusion as his benevolence toward it wouldn't create a positive outcome for his world. He could kill the fly, let it die quicker and without pain, but he knew he wouldn't be granted the same luxury, and besides suffering was an integral part of life... perhaps the fly was feeling a sense of contentment as it looked upon everything good it had in its life, this moment could possibly be the greatest joy it had ever felt, its resignation was the most freeing moment in its experience. There was a slight twinge of sympathy for it, watching anything suffer for the sake of suffering wasn't much entertainment. But he knew he should let the fly die, perhaps another fly would learn something, but every fly dies and prolonging its life wouldn't much change a thing. The fly had slowed his struggle, now accepting the gravity of circumstance, resigning to the inevitability of fatality. The passing of the fly turned into a passing memory and the birth of a thought.
http://debaucherous.wordpress.com
He sat and watched a fly die. It wasn't much of a fly, a small fruit fly, or perhaps just a fruit fly as it didn't seem small for a fruit fly. He felt like some sort of benevolent force staring down upon the struggle against gravity and the surface tension of its watery circumstance. The physics of the situation was ensuring the fly would drown, it couldn't buzz its wings as fast as polar water molecules loved themselves. He could reach in with a divine finger and with very little effort change the course of its path, he could let the fly fly, to do something of minimal gain to itself or its fly friends. He didn't really like the fly, no more or less than any other fly but it hadn't ever done anything to gain his favour. As the fly struggled he could see the intensity, the outcry and the futile fight for its innate desire to continue its consciousness. He pretended he understood the fly, imagined it was crying out for help and he was listening, that even from a distance the fly somehow knew that his presence was detected and heard. He pictured the angst and anguish, whittling down the will of the determined creature and its recognition that the presence of the benevolent being was not favouring it. Peering closer he wished the best for the valiant fly, but if he saved this fly, he would have to question why he saved this fly from perishing. Why not another insect, why not that fly's colony? The fly didn't benefit him ever, infact fruit flies did nothing but complicate any situation and there were far better things to do than to save fruit flies from a watery grave. He recognized in himself that he wasn't one to be behaving without due cause, and his actions should fall in line with his principles, so prevent the fly's demise would necessitate the addition of a new paradigm; he was now a force that saved flies sometimes, for reasons presently unknown. This was a character trait he didn't think needed to be added to his list, one that said he wasn't confident in his actions, or of their logical origin. The fly needed to die out of necessity, or rather it needed to come to its own conclusion as his benevolence toward it wouldn't create a positive outcome for his world. He could kill the fly, let it die quicker and without pain, but he knew he wouldn't be granted the same luxury, and besides suffering was an integral part of life... perhaps the fly was feeling a sense of contentment as it looked upon everything good it had in its life, this moment could possibly be the greatest joy it had ever felt, its resignation was the most freeing moment in its experience. There was a slight twinge of sympathy for it, watching anything suffer for the sake of suffering wasn't much entertainment. But he knew he should let the fly die, perhaps another fly would learn something, but every fly dies and prolonging its life wouldn't much change a thing. The fly had slowed his struggle, now accepting the gravity of circumstance, resigning to the inevitability of fatality. The passing of the fly turned into a passing memory and the birth of a thought.
http://debaucherous.wordpress.com
