a riotous tick

our most shared fear is public speaking. it’s cynically the perfect joke. we’re terrified of going in front of our peers to be ourselves. who has the power in that relationship? the audience is strong in numbers, but passive in initiative. it would form an anthill only if food was placed at its feet. the presenter, daring enough to attempt deviation, is but one actively organic machine. and that’s all it takes.

beneath the mannerisms and politeness are the keys to a more open future. if only its residents were willing to participate. the calamity of a revolution is determined by the actions of its failed government. there’s no intention to harm — the resistors bring it on themselves. if a magnet with a positive charge pulls you in one direction, is it not your own polarity that will choose whether you roll over your momentum or get pushed back?

but a return should be conveyed to the origin of such movements. the avalanche of a wildfire’s destruction starts from a spark. similarly, an overdue shift in human behavior is prodded by single thoughts chaining together to form an argument. each point is met with the highest of criticisms as a reeling society attempts to atone for all the new wrongs now on display. defense is part of our nature, so if you currently prickle with hostility, i own the blame. moving past the accusational throng, then, can we be civil and recognize the pacified settling of this discussion, or of any quarrel raising alarm? i don’t incite violence; neither does any rational being. if actions can be categorized as uncalled for, there’s a separate channel of analytical approach to tune in and watch.

the riotous tick snowballs into a mob outfit when its future leader learns of the impracticality of reality. close associates dissuade forward-thinking initiatives in exchange for a cushioned routine, but this spearhead vaults over them with the force of rebellion. tragedy collects, accessorizes, and transforms at the result of blocked expression. injustice is deeply felt and leaves a permanent remembrance of disdain. however, instead of the usual narcissistic guilt, one comes to comprehend the unleashed predatory instincts of their counterparts.

continuing the arc, here our fallen soldier lands again, sensing the daggers thrown from across the room. but instead of hallucinating a dart board risen from their forehead, they see a practice dummy, and the rest falls into place.

this chaotic outburst of enragement plays many roles at once. for the social, it’s a cast-aside bat of self-degradation. for the pitied, it’s a widespread unfairness animated into conversation but nothing further. and for the loner, it’s a calling for revival and a discovery of purpose-infused strength.

this is not an ode advocating anarchy. ingest it instead as a deep dish perspective on a spring of anger; multiple layers are prepared before it ever gleams red in the mouths of those gone hungry.

popping out from this blatant disease is my pact is to listen more carefully and empathetically. after all, our experiences are relatable and the half-life of deliberate compassion is yet to be quantified.

– D K T



life ends. why pretend

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