Alone, I Devour

 

I do not crave a large social circle. I do not kneel to the digital altar of social media. I do not rot my brain with endless chatter and distraction. The herd can drown in its own noise, I am not of them.

Modern man has grown fat, weak, and tame. His spine is bent to the weight of his own phone. His tongue flicks like a rat, desperate to gossip, desperate to be seen. He begs for crumbs of attention, starving while thinking himself fed. He belongs to the herd and the herd belongs to slaughter.

But I am not herd. I am beast. My solitude is not emptiness; it is armour, it is fire, it is blade. My silence is not void; it is forge, it is hunt, it is roar. I sharpen alone. I feed alone. I rise alone.

The many cling to each other because they cannot bear the weight of being. They drown their weakness in numbers, in friends who are not friends, in followers who are not followers. Pathetic animals bleating into the digital void. But I, I walk alone, and I do not fear the dark. I become the dark.

The herd dies in distraction. I thrive in discipline. The herd gorges on dopamine scraps. I devour time, thought, and strength. The herd begs for approval. I take what I want, I forge what I need.

So let them choke on their chatter. Let them choke on their feeds, their “likes,” their desperate little smiles. I do not need them. I will never need them. For I am beast and the beast roars alone.