Just to let you know I quit my job and moved away. I’ve had enough of cleaning festering wounds, of scraping dry flaking coagulated blood from the wells of the filthy rich. I can’t stand to watch those vast vats fill with blood for those who don’t deserve it, while there are people starving in the streets, with nothing but flakes of skin to eat. I don’t want to play their game anymore, even if my role in this obscene decadence is minuscule.
I feel I might just be able to clear my conscience if I can find a bit of skin to draw my own blood from. I’ve found a farm for the time being though, a small family operation that feeds the local community; it’s all done naturally as well! No machines or pumps, I never knew such a thing existed. The only downside to this place is everyone and their Mums have children, they all preach about sustainability, but they’re oozing with hypocrisy when they keep pushing out more hungry mouths to feed. Anyway, hope to hear from you soon, sorry if you’re still getting my Blood Babes magazine, I forgot to cancel my subscription.
I seriously can’t believe I’m going to be a father. I’ve spent my whole life telling myself I will never father children, I will never contribute to the despicable and deplorable society I’m part of. Yet here I am, adding another cog to the machine, another six legged parasitic creature to suck the life from Mother Being. I wonder how many more cogs it will take before Mother Being finally kicks the bucket and brings forth a mass exodus, forcing our vile race to traipse through the wasteland in search of another hapless Mother.
Do you think we will bring our unearthly machines with us? I’ve no doubt we will try, but I can’t see how we’re going to shift fields and fields of pumps from the back of one creature to another. The rich simply wouldn’t tolerate feeding naturally like the rest of us. If you can call drinking the blood of another being natural that is.
I’m not sure how I feel about teaching this to my child, or if I should raise it to be as ignorant as the rest of you. How exactly do you tell an innocent being that its very existence, depends on the suffering and misery of another. I find it hard to believe that everyone else’s positive demeanour is nothing less than a façade. I can’t be the only one who thinks our very existence is just fucked up? Can I? Could everyone really be that naive?
At least you will be happy, probably won’t stop the constant daily drone about “doing my part for society and bringing forth the next generation” and all that rubbish you’re always going on about. I wonder if you’re still going to be proud of me having read this and finally finding out how I feel about our race. Well, that’s enough ranting for one day. I might be needing a babysitter sometime soon by the way!
I think I finally have an understanding, or at least some level of empathy, towards the masses and their primal need to reproduce. My daughter has brought new meaning and depth to my existence. And with it an unparalleled level of inner conflict. I wonder now if everybody feels the same, if we all go through the same turmoil, or if intellect is merely discarded when reproduction comes into the picture. I however feel unable to relinquish my cynicism, unable to let go of all my anger and hatred towards the world I’ve brought her into. Just yesterday I was dragged along to the shops, to buy yet more things for her. I was filled with malcontent, left wondering really how much stuff does a child really need? Nevertheless I feel compelled to provide for the little wrinkly sack of life.
And that is the root of my problems. How do I balance my instinctual drive with my intellectual needs? Is it possible to raise a child and not morally bankrupt oneself? I’m not entirely sure why I’m posing all these questions to you, it’s not like you had any problems casually pushing out a small army into the world. But I am finding writing to you cathartic, even if you aren’t with us any more, I do at least get to pretend for a short while you are.
Lots of love Klip
Digital Art and writing by Edd McDermott