The messiah complex

 ''And of course our cause is righteous! This is a war, sister, and in a war, every side is fighting for a righteous cause..''

 I woke up in the middle of the night again having one of these hideous nightmares, where you realize you are asleep but no matter what you can't wake up. It's funny how when I am at this state I always dream of been hunted and tortured and all kind of soul consuming things instead of having nice wet dream. 

 Anyway, with my heart beating it's way out of my chest and my eyes still seeing monsters there is no way of getting back to sleep. So I get dressed grab my pack of smokes and a beer from the fridge and go down to the streets to have a nice late midnight walk.

 I drunk my beer on my way downtown, and bought another one from a liquer store since I got there. I find a nice bench and take a sit there. I take out a cigarrette. A tiny voice whispers in my head that it's bad for my health. I look around and take a deep breath. The tear gas the police sprayed all over the place to disperce the protestors make it's way deep into my lungs filling them with it's toxic. I light the cigarrette anyway.

 On the bench next to mine is a homeless man sleeping. He has a newspaper on him, as if a piece of paper can protect a man from the wind. Even from this distance I can read the huge headline letters: ''Leftists taking over Europe!''

 I don't know if I have to laugh or if I have to cry reading this. Four and a half billion years of evolution leading to a species so desparate to find a group to fit in that will gladly embrace the label of marxist or neonazi or capitalist and so on. So misarable we are that we are accepting a small number of people manipulating us using emotional blackmail,  that is targeting either on our need for equality, or on our national conciouness.

 People say that money talks. That is not true. Money dooes no talk. Money screams. And it screams with a voice so deafening and frightful that makes entire populations hide back into their houses, not doing anything about their dreams, brainwashing them that there is no other way. Without it we wouldn't work, we wouldn't eat, we wouldn't live.

 With one cigarrette left and my eyes tingling out of the venomous city air and of exhaustion I return to my appartment. My bed seems like sweet redemption as I fall onto it. I fall asleep hoping that the monsters will not come for me twice in the same night..