Reading the Riot's Act
I have heard the voices, of peers and higher-ups, in the glitz of their achievements, that I, a mere mortal, was not enough to push past the norms of the wizardry. Those words were like a dog being put to heel, a cat being brushed in a tub or a parrot being caged in a box. You would have thought that they would use better words and kinder minds, that they would scale the giddying heights of compassion and understanding but it just came off as a condescending jibe for a person having a dream.
At that date, I finally understood why there are fewer angels and wizards in our world, far fewer than days of the past. Having had a flame extinguished, an idea neutered at the birth, many people now live in the bubble for them. They have no thoughts and no dreams, never said a thing that they meant, just so they can survive in a harsh world. I know that to be true, and I want otherwise. There is no glory in that grey life, nor is there any comfort because they know, the players of the game, they know that they can fuck with you any time. You are powerless to their triumph.
It was best to go to the library deep in the bowels of the marketplace to understand for once and for all what it meant to be a human, and what do colours even represent? The old library was stacked with worldly knowledge, unworldly knowledge and all kinds of noises and deceit and purity in the forms. The book I took up read well into the notions we speak of. These aren't novel things, generations have fought blood and tears over such notions. Things aren't watered down in their records, and we were supposed to uphold such sacred jewels. I find such binds to be really descriptive and lack any critical thought, but then quickly I sifted through more books and journals. One of it read that the problem with grey is that it really scalps away the thinking of the masses, and eventually leads to tyranny because of a privileged elite. The problems of grey do not create immediate things but rather destroys generations to come as people take things as they are and not what they can be. When a ship sinks, they accept it and embrace it rather than take up the rafts and jostle the tides.
Those run-on-thoughts carried my heart to endear worlds of snow, and isolation, because at least in a world as such, you are who you are, without being fed into the frenzy they want you to do, boxes they want you to be in, people you are supposed to be. Those are horrible agendas, and yet in all that, our world shone. The colours we have outside those grey folks. Yes, there are worlds with a better future. Yes...
Consumed by such thoughts and dreams, I was shaken by Becky, who was also there and she found me dwelling into things we ought not to. She pitied me for being a fool, a wizard, because it was so much easier to be grey. I could tell, and it was not natural for me to be a wizard, as contrast to the nature of her to be an angel. Things just happen, and I was chosen, for better or worse, and that is life. We just are. Enough of that. I think it is better we continue later with this entry, for she is taking me to dinner. And that means much more than the colours of the world.