Here we are again. A moment of truth. Another reckoning of self discovery—on success and sacrifice.
Raise your bitter cups of life, Espresso on the rocks, stirred not shaken. Kiss your smokes with the lips of death, the soldier’s cigarette, drawn not dragged.
Welcome to the Council.
In Anhedonia, the Sinless City, a citizen will never amount to anything without sacrifice. Know that there is no joy to a life with no fulfillment and we don’t get it around here unless it involves an intense case of self-loathing.
I hear people arguing on how loving your faults and self-acceptance are the key elements to a productive life. The very same people who can’t go to sleep because they now it’s nothing but a charade. A facade of self-worship where I’m supposed to love myself to feel better, feel better to get shit done, get shit done but shit is shit and all shit is nothing but.
I go to sleep hating my self, hating my shortcomings and hating my faults. In Anhedonia we forge ourselves in the fires of self-loathing because love makes the world go round but hatred changes it.
In Anhedonia, all members of the esteemed Council live the sagacious life of self-deprecation. You can’t live with a broken mirror and you can’t love it. I hate the broken mirror but at least I know that’s who I’m looking at. A fragment self of selves with a shattered sense of existence but a cemented self of being, in Anhedonia only the broken can be. Only the broken are accepted.
Because only the broken can ever change the world.
In Anhedonia, it’s not about who you are. It’s about what you are.
What are you?