And, for that, I blame a man on Daily Kos named Hunter.
There is nothing truly good and decent in this world. It is easy enough thing to believe, sometimes, and I am skilled in drifting out of believing it myself, during the dark times when I forget within myself the implications of such a pronouncement, the utter declaration of death that it summons, and wraps itself in, and wears as spectral cape. There is only one sure death for this world, and that is when the last spark of the last light dies from it, finally flickers from the white hot blue of collective hope (is that it, truly, the meaning of the color?) and alters hue to the fainter ones; orange for despair, yellow for sickness, red for hatred, before losing what warmth it once had for good, and fading into the unseen place beyond the simple blackness of absence.Now go read it already, and if you can't or won't post a response on Daily Kos, post one here.