[ WP ] Sloth , the villain

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Not too difficult, yes? How strange it is, when broken down to their core components, something can lose so much meaning. To what do we attribute the significance of our lives? Inhale, exhale. Consume, excrete. Slumber, awaken. The dichotomous nature of being makes me wonder if we all are just switches. Little sentient switches, being flicked on and off through the monotonous routines of our daily lives. We are not the clock-makers, we are the gears. Spinning and turning, clicking and whirring underneath the placid face of a watch. I say let us spin ourselves to oblivion. Stare in the face of the expanding void and accept the meaninglessness. The only thing binding us to this corporeal prison is the thought that what we do matters. Let your thoughts go, flung into the rushing stream of transiency. Caring is the selfish grasp of thinking to the material world of cold reason. Oblivion is our only comfort. Accept the meaninglessness of thinking, of being. As the great Epicurus once said: `` *Non fui, fui, non sum, non curo, *'' 
 
 Sloth awoke grudgingly. Groggily, he looked around the alley he was slumped in. The seat of his pants was soaked on the soggy, mold-covered ground. He felt something, something rodent-like, scurry across his thighs. He was used to it by now. Just barely out of earshot, he could hear the faint, frantic whispers of a woman. A series of short grunts, and a muffled scream. 
 
 Across the street, beams of moonlight illuminated the silhouette of two figures. a man and a woman. The woman squirmed helplessly as the man mounted her. Sloth stared listlessly before resting his head back against the brickwork. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
