Diminish - Act 1, Ep 11

The current Soup of the Day is...

Hot And Sour Soup!

Finally, we come upon a soup that I don't mind at all.

Hot And Sour Soup is one of those things that delights me through its unabashed robustness.

At least, that's the case when it's made properly.

Plenty of times, a cook will hold back, unwilling to commit to a food that is supposed to make you cringe a little.

That happened way too often; the fear of allowing something to be what it is. It made me sad every time.

Because, again, it's all too reminiscent of the way people tend to tick in general.

It's amazing how our culture treats the idea of 'cringe' like a fate worse than death.

I cannot begin to imagine what it's like inside the mind of that sort of person.

The person who sees anything that slightly deviates from their exact perception of what is natural,

and their 'kind' solution is to call it 'cringe.'

And the terrifying thing is, somehow, this manages to influence the wider cultural perception of things at an alarming rate.

On this night in particular, I spend my disintegration thinking of these people and their victims.

The people that anger at the sight of a person having a passion that isn't theirs.

The people who retaliate at the sight of a person showing 'too much passion.'

I'm re-living what they did to you in eighth grade.

I'm 13 again, watching your colorful, unique imagination murdered in broad daylight every single day.

I'm watching them rip apart the Sonic dolls you took to school to help with your anxiety.

I'm listening to all of the cliques whisper about how you should never be treated seriously ever again, because you dipped carrots in peanut butter at lunch.

I'm coming home every night, watching your interest in everything you enjoyed wither away.

I'm feeling all of the exact things I felt then. But things are different now.

Back then, I had a better outlet. I could attack the water instead.

I'm pretty sure the reason that I was so dominant at States is because if I hadn't put all those hours in the pool, I would've been in juvie, or worse.

But in so doing, I abandoned you at your weakest point.

I left you to bleed out alone.

In the average person's ideal world, the person you wanted to be does not exist.

And they were so insistent, so single-mindedly determined, you had no choice but to believe them.

I watched my brother get turned into a zombie, just like the rest of them.

Suddenly, I am guaranteed to die without having the time to leave an influence of my own.

I will leave behind a world that is no less inclined to witch-hunt sources of 'cringe' . . .

. . . and heroically mangle any truly challenging, inspired passion that stands in their way.

I will die knowing that every day, some kid out there will continue to be led to the same fate as you.

The weirdos will be muscled into a form that everyone else desires, and their song will die out.

I wonder just how many of them will end up like Mikey, when they realize that society will always make it a constant, miserable war to exist as themselves.

I miss Mikey each and every day.

I recall that night I convinced you not to follow his lead.

And I try to remember simply how important it is that you are alive.

I think about how your death would've made absolutely no impact at all on how the cringers treat life.

But hey, at least you stopped eating carrots with peanut butter.

Society at its finest.

Justice truly prevailed.

. . . I want you to do something for your stupid dead sister, alright?

Get a carrot and dip it into some peanut butter. And take a bite.

You don't have to enjoy it as much as you used to. You don't have to finish it.

I just want to fall asleep tonight pretending you won that battle.

I want to imagine, for just a moment, that people tried desperately to destroy you over something you ate at lunch . . .

. . . and they failed.