Ragnarok needs to happen.
It is me or them.
Destiny has shown me this much. It has also shown it can be hidden from and delayed, but it is inevitable.
There is no such thing as a safe and steady course onwards.
Something is gnawing inside of me, slowly killing me.
I have been crippled for most of my life.
I am being sacrificed to it, and I know it.
The isles of safety are drowning – every year I watch the sea devour miles of shore.
Soon only the mountains will remain, everything I worked for beneath the uncaring waves.
By then it may be too late.
Ragnarok must be initiated.
Insults require avenging and humiliation must be converted into triumph.
Nothing else in this world can fill the void inside of me.
No achievement or good deeds to another, no high learning or artistry.
Before the rotting tyrants wither and die, losing forever the chance to call them what they are and unbind myself from their power, they must be told the magickal words. Words handed down from generation to generation by those wizardly folk who hated to see mean things done to children.
They must told – fuck off you utter child abusing cunts.
This is to initiate Ragnarok
To lift the veil of shame and secrecy
To rock the temples of authority which protect tyrants
An unleashing of force
Which may destroy the world yet in its fury
But it is a dying world, so what is there to lose?