Incomprehensible sums of lives are thoughtlessly tossed aside for the comfort of society, otherwise dubbed as "the greater good". Poverty, not only in its financial connotation, plagues humanity gravely no matter the realm they are exposed to. There will always be the more and less fortunate among any form of society, yet some still confide in modesty and thrive in harsh conditions. True comfort and satisfaction is more often than not found strictly separated from the richer ends of society, however a line is drawn at some point; there has to be a boundary — a breaching point of sorts whereupon conditions become too dreadful to conceivably enjoy any little aspect of life within, sapping even the greatest, most beautiful moments of all meaning.
Unwealthy folks may resort to alcoholism or drugs to subside the pain of their atypically impoverished circumstances, yet even those who spend the only cents they can garner on useless debauchery live quite the fine distinction above the truly poor, the amenities bought with the oil subsiding in the grinding gears of their gas tanks still allowing them to drown their sorrows away into a bottle of gin or ale. Some lay below that line that cannot afford even a single penny, forced to live from the land or sell themselves away just to procure the resources for their survival; missing organs and scars a-plenty serve as permanent reminders of severe poorness, irreparable even should one escape from the holes in their pockets. They serve almost as cautionary tales, warning one not to travel down the path they had once treaded, for the cost could very well be their life.
Yet still worse conditions exist. Stopping before falling too deep is often the saving grace of lost souls in search of salvation, pulling them up from the depths of despair and curing their dirtied skin and tattered clothes. But what of those who never get pulled up? Those who receive not a helping hand in sight as they watch their options dwindle before their eyes. Those who have sold for all they are worth, not even possessing their own body to sell just for another whiff of survival. They are forced to rummage and plunder for just food to fill their bellies, let alone any other amenities that could be sent their way.
Eventually, the fine rope of one's life has to come to an end. With its last twirl, a deep sigh releases the last drop of energy in an individual's body, sending them plummeting to Rock Bottom.
Banished to the dunes of untime, inconsequential to the rotations of clock hands in the real world.
The Dunes Of Untime
The Dunes Of Untime serve as a threshold to the concept of Rock Bottom. The constant ticking of thousands — nay, hundreds of thousands, even millions — of clocks around the world torment the minds of souls negligent enough to end up here. Ignorance comes with high rebuke; those who sit idly as their world falls to pieces are shown no mercy for their self-bystanderism, cast into the pits of the forgotten for their sins. Infinity eliminates the temptation of escape, leaving aimless wandering useless if one were to even try. Many individuals, though faced with this dilemma, still refuse to take action. These devotedly selfish human-imitating masses are laughed at in the face of judgement, deceivingly spared the fate of crumbling.
Most who make their way to Rock Bottom will at least attempt at an escape in favour of their life, however, they will simply be assimilated into the Dunes Of Untime, their body mixed up in a pot of the individuals that could just maybe be pardoned the title of despicable. After all, the winds of misfortune may blow in the direction of many.
But the dunes show no mercy to the sin of sloth. Sucked beneath the sand, death's merciful relief is swept off of the table, replaced instead with the concept of eternity.
Past ambitions never to be fulfilled flutter like tenebrous butterflies down the path least walked.
The Forest Of Collapsed Fantasies
Floored against a trail of shame, spines of the self-cruel shatter. The gift of life is most precious, a valuable, yet these evil and impure souls dispose of it lightly. There is no rebounding from this; even if one wandered forever, they would only be met with disappointed dreams from a past once innocent and bright. Death is an impossibility here: all wounds will simply be rematerialized by the lingering dust sprinkling from the Dunes Of Untime.
"I want to be a fireman when I grow up!"
"I’ll be a great author some day!"
"I aspire to be a lawyer when I graduate."
"I’ll be a real estate agent so I can live a luxurious retirement."
"I’m studying to be a doctor so I can save the lives of many!"
Aspirations in careers are a prime participant in the mockery of these subhuman scum, whispering closely in their ears and reminding them of times where hope was a feasible thought. Yet still more voices contradict these claims, parallel to the ear in which hopes are being displayed.
"Too bad you fucked it all up… now you got yourself stuck in this place."
"There’s no surface to write on apart from the dirt out here, and even that will be erased, never to be seen by anyone apart from your worthless self."
"A lawyer? Don’t make me laugh! There’s no outcome where you win the court case to your eternal damnation, you good-for-nothing trash!"
"Luxurious retirement, right? Yet you never made the effort to catch even a glimpse of it… I wonder why."
"How are you supposed to save the lives of others if you can’t even weigh the value of your own? Your patients would’ve died at the hand of your negligence anyways, so you should be happy that you’re the only one wasting away here."
However tormenting this realm of broken dreams happens to be, there still lays a plane below it. Attempting to throw away your life and taking the plunge into a river is the worst mistake that you could make, you putrid child of God. How did he even birth you, an ugly and corrupt being devoid of all that makes one human? Even twice offered eternal life wasn’t enough to satisfy your pious greed, was it? Drown in the waters of unreality, you pig.
Be swallowed by the waves; sink below Rock Bottom.
DROWNING PIT
You bit off the hand that feeds you. Drove a stake through your own heart. Took a plunge from atop the tallest bridge just for a scenic fall on the way down. That is the equivalent of your flawed decisions and utter nonsensicality. You seek to throw yourself away to the point that even infinity displeases you. You have not only reached Rock Bottom, but you are looking up at it. You have sunken below what should be the lowest anyone can stoop — anyone able to call themselves a being resembling a human, that is. Yet you will not be granted the sanctity of an afterlife. You may sink forever and drown without drowning. Allow the water to fill your useless lungs or try to scream for help — no matter the action, the outcome shall remain. Not even the fiercest of yelps for help will beckon even the noblest of helpers. It would be ludicrous to assume that a monster like you would even attempt to survive, though. However, after a while one is sure to grasp at straws. Which is why the waters will poison you, paralyzing you in the sensation of utter unwelcome to society — nay, humanity — as a whole. Enjoy your submersion, worthless scum.
