We Are Here to Hurt Each Other

by Paula D. Ashe

Annia of Naples; the wandering witch, the Dionysian priestess who brought a Bacchanal so brutal it almost toppled Rome; she who danced barefoot in the still hot ashes of massacred children in the Valley of Ben Hinnom, my origin, myself untouched by even Moloch, she knew it too.

Above us, the white light from dead stars spun capriciously through black fields of desolation. As they did before my birth; as they will do once I am dust. Pain is the source of all matter. It is the force that holds the universe together, that will tear it apart, only to rebuild again. Throughout the ages, humanity asks over and over again “why are we here?” and then pretends as if the Void does not bellow the answer back every single time. We are here to hurt each other. Again, and again, and again, in perpetuity.

"stare into the darkness to better appreciate the light."

I don't know what it's like to live in a world that feels safe. I never have.