Earth is a planet colonized by humans. And industrialization has colonized them. The cardboard cut-outs of mass-produced goods are everywhere. At some point, the toxic corporations became transparent but were still accepted socially. A reformation was impossible. The transparency bled into the products. And humans still bought them. The schema had settled down in permanence. A schema that was a mask, a very very thick mask, covered all of them. There was nothing special about it. It was the natural convergence point of all those that are sentient. Goods that were once fluent were now plastic rust. The few who could still scrub their eyes in the wake of others were struck with a wave of undefined pessimism—and some stricken with radical optimism. In a place with no war, there was the most violence done to no one in particular. The ones who first recognized it had failed to defecate the rest. There was no such corruption in mascots. The corruption only existed when there was war. But the muddled brain could not manifest much of anything anymore.

True and bold. They couldn’t necessarily be good. And never that bad. It was time. Time passes endlessly without bounds and in accordance to nothing other than itself. It was this single medium that facilitated and suppressed everything. When enough time has passed, a spark of nihilism embodies the greatest pessimists, and the lowliest optimists.

And in this space of cardboard, there was a small accident not meant to occur. A being brought into this pit of loveliness and fire, with every sense of possible doubt. A rusted world would reach its end once plasticized. Suicide may have been the greatest option.

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In this manifestation of something, he was only a college student. The cycle would repeat, and he knew it all too well. Growing up was the first phase, as well as the most meaningless yet riddled with potential. An incapability would drill itself in every toddler to mimic their predecessors who themselves were incapable. The second phase was a myriad of torture found in a false haven filled with despairing pleasure. And the third phase brought eternal regret for the initial phases. Some could look past it temporarily, but it would catch up eventually. And the final phase did not last long. Only those who conquered their existential dread could pass it. But that was impossible.

Many would fantasize of a world greater than their current utopia. And to that, is a dystopia. It was mind-boggling to the he who was only a college student. He could regard it with more caution, but the discovery was an impeccable one. He had no wish to conquer the fourth phase. It wasn’t blind determinism, but rather, an intense hesitation. That hesitation would be the precursor to the greatest determination. It had yet to flourish but that much was absolute. In that moment of enlightenment, he got himself killed.

He wanted to escape the plastic world, and luckily for him, he wouldn’t be remembered. His act was not justice in the least despite appearing so—he simply seized the opportunity to kill himself. And for that, the light of God would not shine on him.