Steel City Diamonds

The world really is a funny place. We all cheer for praise, for God, for love and the bigger picture. There are orange shirted charity workers on every high-street corner, donation boxes in even fast food restaurants, moving adverts on the television projecting to the standard, middle class human the realities of third world countries; their starvation, their poverty, their constant loss. It’s all very pro-world, in theory.

This is the dimension that we, collectively, wished we lived in. But we don’t. And that every day, working, mother of three that’s watching those adverts on the television gives it a moments glance whilst she shoves the meal she spent half an hour slaving for into her silver-spooned mouth.

In theory, we care. Truthfully, we couldn’t give a flying fuck. It’s so easy to fall in and out of love with humanity, to lose faith in the world and become disenchanted by everything we know, everything we trusted and hoped for. Our dreams become worthless, all ambitions fall into a rubbish bin of selfishness, along with the rest of the populations. A pit of corpses, the bodies of what we so naively believe we can one day be.

When we’re younger, we want to be firemen, nurses and teachers. We want to help, to give back. But then it becomes princesses, footballers and all of a sudden everyone wants to be rich or famous, without a minutes work shifted behind that title.

We’re surrounded by this type of person, it’s everywhere. The presenter you watch on the news each morning, with their fake teeth and overly formal suits; on the train journey to work, the posters boast of the newest blockbuster, the actors faces plastered over, over, over and again. Then home; TV again. Reality shows, interviews, music videos, soaps. It’s all a lie.

Shakespeare himself could not write up the bullshit that we kid ourselves are our lives.

We see only for a nanosecond the sheer destruction that we’ve made. The wars that shattered communities, countries, like a ball baring being dropped onto the thinnest sheet of glass. The depleting nature that we scream we love, gone. Before we know, we’ll live on a sphere of concrete, drugs and hate.

Murder, poverty and rape have become an everyday life-fuck, that we accept because we assume that we can’t do anything about it. It’s life, we say. And besides, it won’t happen to us. We all think it, as we curl our lips at the grotesque headlines, as we gorm, emotionlessly at the screen, as we turn down the radio for background noise as we fuck ourselves.

So what can be done to escape this shit heap that we’ve made for ourselves? Suicide, so we can just look back at the world and see it slowly rot and fester, while we’re all safe and sound? Death has never seemed a glimmer more attractive than the life I lead. Heaven, Hell and Earth have merged into one; what could be better or worse than what I have now?

Being alive, and living is all bitter sweet, but when you put it under a microscope and take a look, it’s obvious that we’re all fucked. Fucked, damned and praised.

People ask why there aren’t miracles anymore, why He doesn’t answer our cries and screams and pain. They ask why God has turned his back on us. And he’d answer, “The same reason why you do not see the mess you have made.”