The Triumphant Sound of Egotistical, Angst-Riddled Youth

This is a post from several years ago. I wrote it in anticipation of being able to usurp the authority of my English teacher and incidentally received a massive rejection letter to a literary arts institute.

Excerpt #2:
In the Beginning the End came

In a time of crisis…
There will be fear and there will be wonder. Streets will be vacated, as nobody uses them anymore, save for trolling about within the confines of automobiles. Buildings will be packed full of people, scared and ignorant. A great wind will blow, breaking the glass of those buildings, forcing the masses outside into the vortex that they helped to create. This will be the beginning.
Later, when the winds die down and people can contemplate for a moment what might have happened, what events might have transpired to cause this current situation, they will start to realize with glazed eyes that there is a silent accusation, right and true, and they will acknowledge it for the first time. They will imagine a world without life, without meaning, without God. Blame will be realized fully as something to be assigned to each one of them, individually, personally, and satisfactorily sublime. This was His fault and Hers, their fault and mine.
And the winds will pick up, spreading heavily over what looks to be the remains of a distant warning, some time-honored event called 9/11, and the people will leave here, in some regimented fashion, not knowing why they are leaving, yet knowing full well that there is a reason and that reason can be easily assigned to each of them alone.
I will remain here with the Others. We will desert the cities and claim our natural place amidst the order of Things. We will sow seeds, reap fruit, irrigate land and navigate the long passages of land that were abandoned long ago, when that first heap of cars and trucks laid waste to the earth and gave to the people the freedom to travel on strict lines with white and yellow slashes and dots percolating it’s surfaces. We will burn all remnants of modern life in pursuit of something Real. We will take away names and give back Meaning and Purpose to all things. We will annihilate religion and worship Mankind, Ego, Individualism and the Great Collective of those Individuals. We will celebrate Oneness and Difference the same. We will be alien to the life that the winds forced…allowed us to abandon.
Then there will be the followers, those too scared to believe the guilt they felt was absolute truth. They will come from distant places, cities, with obsolete technologies striving to make amends for crimes they dare not speak of. We will not allow them in. We will test them and realize that there journey was a worthy test in itself, but still, we will not want to believe that they are true to the cause as we all were, staring patiently into starry skies waiting for the day that the great winds would blow away the world that made us so unhappy, so fragmented in our minds, so insignificant. So, we will test those that seek us out as some sort of shelter from the real truth of all things. Those that we allow in will remain as original seekers of truth. We will grant them that gift of privilege.
Eventually time will pass us into the future, far away from any conceivalbe tie to the past, and we will be happy, joyous, grateful, and proud. We will have conquered the ideology of the Macro and underwritten the Micro with our blood and sweat.
Suddenly, as I shake myself from the view of the night sky, I realize how singular life is for us all, how individualized our perceptions are, and how insubordinate I am. The wind blows through my hair and I say to myself, so that no one will hear my plea for help, “Please blow away that which is not right. Please destroy that which has killed the spirit of Man and show me a pathway toward a new life, toward the Real. Please! Tell me where the Others are.”
And the wind continues to blow, the water continues to run from a heavily chlorinated pond, onto my garden, into the soil that my hands have committed so much time to, and I start to realize that the destruction is already here, breathing its life into itself through Us, our own twisted design for a brighter world, twisted again by nature to bring us the fruit of our labor…waiting. As we sow the seeds for our own extinction, I see clearly that the seeds have grown into trees larger than society, that those trees have been here for a very long time, waiting.
Soon there will be an end. Soon life will return to the minds of the sufferring. Soon, all of the second-handers of the world will fight each other for scraps as myself and the Others laugh and drink in fields of merry content and harvests of food like that of false gods and prophets from story books like the Bible, or the Quran. Soon…soon…”Please tell me where the Others are.”