You are........ strange.

What a strange motive, to come here. In search of nothing? What is it that you look for?

You know exactly who I'm talking to.

Why? Why conjure a hell with no meaning, yet overflowing with meaning to be found? You are...... strange.

There comes a time in everyone's life where the depth and the depravity of the situation sets in.

We are so unbelievably small.

In our desperation... in our... search for meaning... we have created a monster. It no longer abides by our petty rules. It has a mind of its own. Breathing. Thinking. Changing. It promises infinite life, infinite love, and an all-encompassing sense of purpose. Yet, despite this, the voice in our head never stops pestering us. No amount of churchbells, hugs, beautiful sunsets, or vapid consumerism can ever drown it out.

Only man would look up at night, and believe all was created for him. By another like him.

Think of all the times you've squashed a bug beneath your feet. Not a roach or a fly, but something more quaint. An ant on the sidewalk, perhaps.

That ant- and all the little ants of this world- live completely unaware of how small they really are. They come as quickly as they go. They're born. They live. They breathe. They die. Yet, in their infinite ignorace, they are at peace. They are perfectly content. Such is not for us.

There will never come a time where nothing will ever hurt, and there will never come a time where we will relish in all of the things we wish we had here, or our past friends and family who met their eventual end.

Life, is fleeting. This may or may not be your only shot. But the comfort in all of this, in our obscurity, in all this vastness, is getting the chance to not only spit in the face of death, but for all of us to collectively give it a fucking roundhouse in the ballsack as well.

So, you... you seek to be a part of something. You know in your heart there may be no almighty creator, so you relish in the other things. Sometimes, it doesn't work out. It almost never does. So you come back here, alone, deprived, scared, and cold. To recharge. It's going to be alright. Tomorrow is another day. The Snow will continue to fall up. But that's alright. Everyone has seen The Snow. Even me. The trick is not letting it get the best of you. It is its own thing. As evil and ill-will-bearing as it may seem, it is just as important as everything else. It is part of a natural cycle. It too, will pass. And with it, everything that was here before.

But that's okay. The Snow is never a complete erasure. Far from it. It is a new page, a new cycle, waiting to begin anew. Put the pieces into motion. I'll see you next time, Where the Snow Falls Up.