Cold World

I see slaughtered futures everywhere. Great actors, musicians, businessmen, scientists, engineers, architects, politicians, athletes. The world will never see these people because they have been pressed onto their knees, their wings cut off by their environment. Young guys with dreams beaten out of them.

The only thing they had that was real was that dream. The only thing they had in these grey high-rise cities was their dream. That was the only part of them alive—the lightly burning, fragile candlelight in their chest. And the cold, grey world did everything to blow it out, to make them like the rest. And it succeeded.

These people are dead. Gone forever. Doomed to pure existence until the day they die. That is the saddest thing to me—it truly breaks my heart. I hated the environment, the world, for doing that. But it is incompetent to hate a wolf for eating sheep. It is just the way it is. Its nature.

The only thing I can do is build up my fire and try to light others. But most are unable to be lit again. They have become too much like their environment. Dreams beaten out of them, an inadequately protective position of their beliefs adopted to guard their decisions—and years later, the realization of a wasted life.

What do you feel when you see a little smiling kid with glowing eyes get coldheartedly slaughtered? What is the difference to long-dead children with dreams inside purely existing adults with smug faces and grey lives?

I have learned to read people over time. I understand what they seek, who they are trying to project to the world they are, why, what they truly want that they perhaps don’t even understand themselves. People talk to me believing I see the version of them they are trying to show me—but I see them. I see the real them. The eight-year-old boy who wants to plant a tree, bake a cake for his mom, who has been hurt, what they have done out of that.

People talk to me, and often I stop listening. I look, I perceive, and I see. The reasons, the stories, the dreams, the losses, the pain, the love, the soul.

I, as a man, am by nature very protective. I see my brothers, my close friends, my woman, young men overall with dreams being beaten out of them, with the little them deep inside crying as they are being slaughtered by the programming the grown version has been put through. And the worst part is that it’s almost impossible to wake them up. Concrete walls put up by the programming, painted with arrogance, idiocy, and laziness.

These people have been killed, and we watch new ones being slaughtered all around us. Many will never come back. Ruined destinies.

Everyone who is sane, everyone who is awake, everyone who has a fire burning inside—our duty is to make ours burn brighter and to do the same for others. There is a war going on for the consciousness of people, and we are losing, right this moment.

Do something. Call someone you know whose dreams are being beaten out of them right this moment. Take him with you—to the gym, for a walk, on a trip, into your business. Talk to them. Light their fire. Make it burn brighter than ever before. Put them up. Become a bright energy that lights people, families, communities, cities, countries—and perhaps one day, the whole world.

But be careful. The world consists of billions who do not want you to light others because they themselves cannot be lit. Many of them very powerfull. It’s a difficult journey.

But the only alternative is ignorance and cowardice. And if you do not do anything now, you might already be dead.

Call someone.

-Yanni