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Warcraft Short Story – A brother’s Call to Arms

 

Other short stories starring Isratael

  • Warcraft Short Story – A letter of a pilgrim – Link

 

 

Dun Morogh

The mountainous snowy peaks of Dun Morogh, known for the Khaz Mountains. The center of Dwarven and Gnomish culture and ingenuity. Ironforge and Gnomeregan are the capitals that have hosted thousands of explorers, thinkers and skilled crafters from the Alliance. Most inventions are brought to live in this region, built from the very same minerals that are dug deep from the quarries within the mountains.

Both the Bronzebeard Dwarves and Gnomes have been allies with one another for centuries. Now with the Dwarven clans united; the region is only threatened by the Troggs and Wendigo buried deep underground, the Frostmane Trolls that wish to control the elements and wild life with their voodoo and, lastly, Thermaplugg and his army of leper gnomes that currently reside in Gnomeregan.

With the recent invasion of the Burning Legion upon Azeroth, this region has been one of the most affected by the demonic crusade, excluding the Broken Isles. Though most has been dealt with, this story is a reminder of the events that have unraveled during the peak of this tainted avalanche of death.

Isratael, a traveling Draenei Enchantress and Jewelcrafter, who had been on her pilgrimage for more than two years at the time; was in the Dwarven town of Kharanos. The search for rare minerals and gems lead her to this town. Though her goal was to trade in Ironforge, she had heard of a fabled Dwarven miner and archaeologist that was visiting his homeland. His knowledge of this world was vast and, perhaps, he could provide her with some knowledge.

 

 

A brother’s Call to Arms

 

Galthorm Hammerstone, member of the Explorer’s League. A fine middle aged archaeologist from the town of Kharanos, from a humble miner family background. His curriculum vast, gaining some notoriety in his excavations in Uldaman and, more importantly, Ulduar! In recent years however, he has been digging for artifacts with his guild once again in the Badlands. Denied with the opportunity to venture into a savage unknown land on another parallel timeline given his age, his life became more stable and tame.

In these last few weeks, word has spread that his latest expedition was over and, once again, he returned to his hometown to share the tales and discoveries he had made about the ruins underneath the earth. With a ram packed with gifts and prospected minerals, he was ready to sell the leftovers of his excavation as well to those that desired. Isratael was one of them.

 

The archaeologist had made himself comfortable in his family’s house. With his vast number of cousins and uncles, he did not lacked company! However, at certain days, he was open for business in his family’s foundry. Given Galthorm’s fame, his family has been able to afford having their own modest forge and to craft their own metals out of the ore. In fact, one of Galthorm’s aunts was a Jewelcrafter, who worked alongside other Metalsmiths. Her name was Jagda Hammerstone. This was the dwarf that Isratael approached.

Jagda gladly accepted Isratael’s plead, entertainment by the thought that she would be spending time with someone that is from a race that is much more ancient than her own. In return Jagda only asked to be rewarded by the tales and knowledge that were unique to a Draenei. Of the worlds she had seen, visited. Her own techniques, as a jewelcrafter.

And so Isratael stayed, for nearly two weeks. Working alongside an elderly dwarf, creating rings and necklaces from precious and semi-precious stones. The two formed a bond rather quickly, sharing the grief of losing their spouse. In fact, Jagda’s spouse was an Earthen Ring Shaman, a Wildhammer Dwarf. Given her spouse’s connection with the Earthen Elements and her own Hammerstone lineage, she had decided to become a Jewelcrafter. In memory of her past relationship with a sturdy fool who had given his life to protect the World Pillar, in Deepholm.

 

 

In one of those cold evenings, after a day’s work, Jagda invited Isratael for a brief walk. The elderly widow still had strength in her legs, creating an healthy habit of walking around town during the night in order to not fall ill and inactive. Most of the populace was still awake, despise the cold. After all, it was still summer and the locals are used to much harsher temperatures that are brought in during winter.

Wearing a wolf’s fur-lined leather coat, Isratael accompanied the dwarf. They walked together to a more secluded area of the town, the outskirts. And in the outskirts, Isratael found herself in a small graveyard. This was not the first time Isratael was invited to visit this particular graveyard.

I had lost hope.” said the elderly Dwarf with her comforting Dwarven accent, gazing at the tombstone that paid homage to the death of her spouse. Though she looked older than the Draenei next to her, it was Isratael who had lived for a few millennia… compared to the nearly two hundred from the dwarf. “But I’ve survived, haven’t I? I never would have guessed that, at this age, I coul’ find an’ befriend a foreign like ye’.

We are survivors, Jagda..” muttered the Draenei with a shiver, the shadows and chill of the night reaching to her knees. Like a spirit, the cold trespassed the holy grounds of one’s undergarments. In Isratael’s mind, she wondered how the Dwarves managed to survive on these mountains for all these years. Her coat was within her grasp, wrapping her dark purple skin tightly.

.. Yet ya’fear the dead?” Jagda questioned, adjusting Isratael’s coat from behind. Unlike the Draenei; most Dwarves, including Jagda, were wearing their summer short sleeved clothing and leather.

I do not. But I do fear a broken heart. There is so much that one can take before their heart turns to stone!” whimpered Isratael, deciding to turn her gaze at the moist soil underneath her hooves. “A heart that has turned into stone cannot allow the Light to penetrate its core.

“My, aren’t ya’ a scholar? Isn’t ya’ kind gifted? What’s this talk abou’ losing ya’ faith?”

 

The gift of the Naaru, a gift to the Draenei from a race of angelic beings made of pure Light. A gift that allows the Draenei to never forget about their past as people, as uncorrupted Eredar exiles who did not fall for the diabolical temptations of the Burning Legion. The Draenei have every reason to be proud of their gift, to be part of the prophetic vision of an army that will stand against the fel corrupted, the Army of the Light.

Isratael, despise the memories that torment her, is aware of this. “You’re right.. Jagda. And what faith do you have?

I have faith that my family will live, that’ll learn from my mistakes. That they’ll take care of me the same way I do to them. That everyday I get up t’prepare our dinin’ table, with their favorite brew.. that they’ll learn what love truly means. So that they, too, can find someone that loves them jus’as much as me!” answered Jagda. Though there was uncertainty in her words, with certain hesitation.. she was able to bring her answer to a rather satisfying conclusion that brought a faint resemblance of a smile on her dry lips.

The words chosen by the elder brought a grin to Isratael’s face. Despise the shrouding mists of doubt clouding her thoughts, to the point of making her indevout; her love for her father still shined brightly. But so did the dread of losing yet another family member “You remind me of my father.. I aspire to be like you one day. Able to move on, bring hope to others.

Ya’ can never move on from such a burden, lass.. but ya’ can teach others how to survive and not’ta be swallowed with grief.

 

Grief.

As the evening turned into darkness and most of the Dwarves walked to their own houses, so did Isratael followed the Dwarven matriarch. This was not the first time Isratael heard these words. The speech and life lessons from the experienced. The voices from those who had suffered, they too have lost and continue to wither with the passage of time. Life is like an orchestra that has a climax, accompanied by the lyrics of a poet who is constantly improvising yet ends up repeating the same chorus over and over when in doubt. And we, the audience, desire to yield the baton and make the orchestra our own. Yet, like fools who never learn from history, we keep falling for the inevitable pits made by our own worst fears, like a self fulfilling prophecy. And thus the chorus repeats and the audience griefs.

Is it us who truly hold the baton? Or is it our nature that compromises our destiny?

 

 

It was during that night that Isratael had received a dire message from her brother, while she slept on the floor on top of a white furred bear rug and surrounded by a few small cushions. Her staff, enchanted and containing a complex set of elaborate arcanic runes that held a perfectly designed Aquamarine crystal, beamed with an aura that only she could recognize. Her family was trying to contact her.

Given that she was asleep, she took her time to take hold of the crystal from her staff. Activating the runes, a voice could be heard from within. It was her brother, Ytaaru.

 

Ytaaru is much older than her. Before her, Ytaaru had other siblings which, from Isratael’s perspective, were half-siblings from their mother’s side. Ytaaru was her only brother and her relationship with her half-siblings has always been scarce. Some of them had long died while others remained. As far as Isratael was concerned, she is aware that there’s at least two of them that decided to abandon the Light and choke themselves with the tainted blood of the Legion’s corruption.

He is a zealot, a fearful paladin. A vindicator, member of the Hand of Argus. His intimidating silhouette makes him a wall and a blazing protector of the Light. Truly a judge that delivers retribution to those who fail to prove their alignment with the vision of the Prophet. Goal driven, his faith is strong and he’ll stop at nothing to fulfill the prophecy that’ll save countless of worlds and realms from the twisted claws of fiends.

 

The voice from within the crystal spoke with authority:

Isratael, it’s Ytaaru, your brother. I’m sending this message to you, hoping that you’ll heed my call…

… the legion, they have invaded this world! They have already arrived to the isles. Remember your people, our people, the vision.

Do not abandon us, Isratael. Forget your pilgrimage and join us! In the light, we are one.. always remember that.

Protect our father. Do not fail the Prophet, do not fail me!

I can ask one of our mages to create a portal for you to come, since you cannot. Tell me where you are, I’ll make sure they’ll do so!

… I’m counting on you… sister!

 

Shocked by the news, Isratael gently placed the crystal on the rug with a trembling hand. Clenching one of the smaller pillows, tears prudently erupted on the room she was in by herself. Using the very same cheap pillow to weep, her worst fears came to reality. She wasn’t ready to face death, yet another war. Perhaps another great lost?

Many questions came to mind while she suffered. If the Burning Legion started to invade Azeroth once again, would this mean that the demons were to invade Dun Morogh? If so, should she stay and aid the Dwarves? What of her father? Why would the demons invade this world now? If she warned the Dwarves of Kharanos, would they believe and prepare themselves for the invasion? Would this town be spared? Was she to die in this town herself among the Dwarves? What of Exodar, her people?

 

Doubt shrouded her judgement and she could not think of an answer to her questions. Grasping her staff, placing the crystal on its rightful place, she walked outside the Hammerstone’s house without making a noise. The night sky was clear and there was yet to be a sign of a demonic invasion. Without a coat, she shivered yet she was blinded by her emotions. She needed some time to think, to consider. To ponder. Would her people, her family.. forgive her if she were to stay and protect the Hammerstone family? Would her family be dead once the invasion was over?

The snow on her hooves, on her knees, wet, ever melting for the lack of a storm for nearly a week. Her palms keeping her balance, the lack of energy. The lack of will and the most important question lingering in the air “Why me?

 

A Call to Arms, yet to be answered.

 

 

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Warcraft Short Story – A letter of a pilgrim

 

 

Azuremyst Isle

For centuries, the Azuremyst Isles remained mostly free from the influence of sapient settlers. The indigenous natives were left to their own devices and wars among themselves. Ruins of ancient civilizations, such as the Night Elves, can be seen on certain areas. Abandoned for millennia, for the fauna to grow and for the barbarians to pillage and defile these lands without any form of punishment.

The Night Elves abandoned these isles for thousands of years, in favor of the land closer to the continent of Kalimdor. Though very few families remained to live in solitude; Furbolgs, Murlocs and Owlbeasts were the only creatures that formed tribes that had a significant presence. That changed, when one of the most ancient sapient races arrived to Azeroth from the Great Dark Beyond. Crashing, their dimensional ship became their capital city. Exodar is the name of this ship, once part of a greater structure known as the Tempest Keep.

With the arrival of such powerful and intelligent race, the Draenei made the Azuremyst Isles their home. Joining the Alliance, they have used their knowledge of the Burning Legion to the advantage of their allies and for the safety and survival of the entire universe. Devoted followers of the Light, like shining almost immortal knights that have lived for thousands of years; their technology and unmatched knowledge of all things magical has left a message to all of those that stand in their way and the way of their Prophet: They are part of the Army of the Light.

The Draenei are survivors that have gained the favor of the Naaru, escaping the grasp of the demonic Burning Legion time and time again. Unlike the other Eredar, they have avoided the temptations and whispers from Sargeras and his minions.

 

This is the story of the Draenei, that now reside in the Azuremyst Isle. In an alien world, they have adjusted to their new environment. It hasn’t been the first time they had to travel to unknown lands. It has been more than six years since they came to Azeroth.

Isratael is one of the few Draenei that have made this far. An Arcanist mage, specialized Enchanter, who has recently taken interest in Jewelcrafting. A pilgrim, who has decided to finally broaden her horizon and learn more about this new planet and their inhabitants.

Before her pilgrimage, two years ago, she wrote a long letter addressed to her family. Placing it on her table, on one of the few settlements near Azure Watch that was specifically built to make home for the refugees of the Cataclysm. She had a cottage of her own, next to her brother’s.

Her father used to visit her once a week and she expected him to be the first one to read. This is the letter that she wrote…

 

 

A letter of a pilgrim

 

Father,

I am writing this letter to you and to our beloved ones. I am sure that you must be filled with hope now that I have finally decided to leave this cottage. However, there is no point in asking those around you about my whereabouts. I left early, before those feathered critters of this land could wake up a few of the humans that have made these islands as their new home as well. I’m sure that my dear brother Ytaaru will not even notice that I’ve left..

 

Thank you, father. For visiting me as much as you did! I am sure your heart still hasn’t recovered from the lost. Which is why you, more than anyone from our family, understand the pain of losing our “other half”. I.. didn’t want to face this new world, I didn’t want to embark on a new war. I’ve avoided it, missing the warmth of my husband’s embrace. His blood was warm and filled with hope! He made me feel loved, safe and ready to aid our armies. Without him, I felt as if the Light had abandoned me as well..

You have grown stronger since the day that we’ve lost mother in Gorgrond. I still cannot look at the Rangari without thinking of her! I am sure that you too; even more than I, since I have seen the way that you clench your fist subtly and briefly when you see one of them. But you always have been stubborn, I know since I am too. You decided to still serve them, to craft and repair their weapons and armor!

This, however, is the difference between you and I. You are not only stubborn, but you can look at a clefthoof in the eyes and face it head on, even if your tears are rolling from the pain within. I am not like that, and you know it too. I am stubborn, but I hide. Which is why Ytaaru has given up on me..

 

Ytaaru has always been special, hasn’t he? He probably never enjoyed the fact that you have spent more time with me than himself. He has been spoiled by his peers, a powerful vindicator. The Light is strong in him, his faith unbreakable. He has always been more stubborn than the both of us and he probably thinks that our tears are distracting him from his devotion. Maybe.. that is why sometimes I feel as if the Light as forsaken me. Maybe I look at him as if he’s a Naaru and I was the demon that carries the shards of the past.

He tried to aid me, I know of that. He gave me this human cottage, next to his, to force me away from Exodar and from the memories of the past. The opportunity to aid our new allies who have suffered too, who have also lost their loved ones from the claws of the one that they used to call The Destroyer. Though this dragon has been defeated, the scars are still burning in the flesh of these people.

I appreciate his attempt.. I have learned more about this world by speaking to these humans. But it did not healed me from the wound in my frail heart, Ytaaru knows that and, for that reason, has given up on me.

However, you have not. Once a week, you visit me all the way from Exodar. I have seen that they have rebuilt most of it..

 

I too need to be rebuilt anew. And you, father, have always been wise! While my brother wanted me to know I wasn’t the only one suffering the lost of a beloved and to have more faith in the Light, you wanted to grasp the shards of my past and shape my fragments into a beautiful enchanted crystal. I’m not that naive, I’ve noticed your intentions when you decided to offer me a Jeweler’s Kit. As if a hobby was going to distract me away from my thoughts.

No, father. What has given me hope was not the kit, or the refugees. It was your determination, your good intentions driven by the love you have for your children. Witnessing Exodar being rebuilt, it made me feel that it is time for me to live my life once again. That there is still time to learn, to dream and to meet new people!

 

I have decided to go on a pilgrimage. To take this Jeweler’s Kit, the one you offered me. To perfect this new skill. To form new memories, a new hope. I have heard that the races of this world are survivors as well, that they have suffered from too many wars! I want to meet them, regardless of the colors that they wear. I am sure that you understand.

Worry not, father, I have left you an enchanted aquamarine crystal bellow my pillow. Take it, it is connected to the staff that I have made together with you on your forge! Hold it firmly, press the edges gently with your thumb and pinky. A rune will be revealed and you’ll have to touch it quickly before it vanishes. Once you do, it will be bound to you. Use it whenever you feel the need to talk to me.

This is not a farewell. I will never abandon my family.. you are not alone! Whatever happens, know that you are loved, the same way that I know that you’ll always love your children.

 

Signed,

Isratael

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Warcraft Short Story – Sanity is an Illusion

 

 

Gnomeregan

The former capital city and true evidence of Gnome ingenuity. Though the Gnomes, to this very day, are still trying to retake their home slowly from the hands of Sicco Thermaplugg, one cannot deny that this race is one of the most intelligent of all Azeroth. Their kindness also knows no bounds, given that they are able to maintain a smile and still aid their allies, despise the events that have placed plenty of their own kind in danger and without a home. It will take a few more years to retake Gnomeregan, to clean it from the radiation, the troggs and from Thermaplugg himself!

However, this story takes place long before the events that have lead to the invasion of the Troggs.

 

 

Midrixie, a female Gnome that was still trying to reach adulthood, was the only child that lived with her loving parents. She was also familiar with a few other members of her family, enjoying a rather cozy social environment with those of the same blood. Together, they focused on forging metals and crafting. To create cogs, bolts and other basic necessities that a tinker needs. It was their business, though some of the family members also possessed other hobbies on their own. Midrixie was no different, being an outgoing Gnome that took interest in the most philosophical questions of the time.

While it’s true that the Gnomish historical records are very scarce, Midrixie would still question the purpose of life and how Gnomes came to be. In a forward thinking meritocratic society that values the inventions and technological breakthroughs and contributions from every individual, there has always been room for Gnomes who enjoyed studying particular fields. Her family and peers saw that aspect of her as only temporary. She was a teenager, still trying to reach adulthood and finding her own path, perhaps even a subtle hint of rebellion. Her questions could very well had meant that her future was one of a devoted in the arts of the arcane.

 

Given her family’s suspicions and predictions, they tried to encourage her thirst for answers to the most existential questions in life by asking one of their own family friends to come and visit their daughter. To answer her questions, to use her curiosity in something productive. Perhaps, even one day, becoming a Mage or, even more peculiar, a Techno Mage. This middle aged female Gnome’s name was Indus; clearly given by ambitious progenitors who wanted her daughter to be just as great as Indus, “the inventor” of Dalaran and member of the Council of Tirisfal more than two millenniums ago.

Indus, when proposed to explore the potential within Midrixie to unravel the wonders of the arcane, felt flattered and pleased with the idea of having an aspiring apprentice. Midrixie, on the other hand, remained suspicious of Indus’ kindness. Indus was, after all, aspiring to become a member of the Kirin Tor. Her support felt dishonest, but Midrixie accepted her aid nonetheless. Indus was quite demanding and she expected much of Midrixie. Growing frustrated and impatient with her student’s failures, Indus was quick to give up on Midrixie and to inform her parents that she was useless as a caster. That this teenager was too emotional and hard to rationalize with, despise her interest in philosophy.

This obviously wasn’t an experience that Midrixie would forget easily, growing some resentment for the society around her. She expressed her dissatisfaction over her family’s business, refusing to work. The signs of rebellion were evident and her parents began to feel and express their disapproval, believing the words that came from Indus on the day she returned to them with their daughter in tears.

 

Time continued to flow, Midrixie was growing older and was near adulthood. Once an extrovert, she was now avoiding contact with the people around her. She could not trust her family members, that continued to label her as a troubled teenager and someone that lacked direction in her life. She still had to invent something, to create a name in Gnomish society. A discovery, anything of importance to her own kind. Was her life destined to be a mere cog in a machine? Was that the life of a Gnome? How did it all came to be and why was no one interested in those questions?

 

Deciding to visit the surface, Midrixie traveled to Ironforge with one of her cousins. It was not the first time, though she never traveled beyond Dun Morogh. But she had seen plenty of Dwarves in her life and, thus, was somewhat familiar with their culture. It was always a refreshing view to be surrounded by Dwarves, given that they were more diverse than her own kind, or so she would always think to herself with a smile in her face. She didn’t felt the pressure to be an inventor, or a wizard. She enjoyed every moment that she was away from the influence of Gnomish society!

That day, she opened to her cousin. She explained her emotions, that she was not happy living in Gnomeregan. That, perhaps, the answer to her questions did not rest within their own capital.. but outside in the world. Touched by her words, her cousin told her that they could stay in Ironforge for a week, instead of a mere night that they had planned in order to trade their goods for a few pieces of silver coins.

During this week, Midrixie had the chance to visit the Hall of Explorers and the Library within. This fascinated her but it did not answer the questions that she had. Even she, herself, didn’t knew why these questions were of so much importance to her. Where was her curiosity leading to and why? Her obsession was a mystery to herself, not allowing her to enjoy the life that her parents had planned for her. But part of life is to grow and to become an individual, able to think for themselves. With this experience, she learned that her questions were only a manifestation of what she was feeling. Trapped, conditioned by the environment she had grown that already had a future planned for her.

She felt ready to come home and tell her parents about this discovery, that her destiny was for her to carve, to answer herself and not to ask others what was her fate as a Gnome. What is a Gnome? What is the purpose in life, for a Gnome?

 

Life isn’t easy. Once she returned home with her cousin, her parents shown concern as to why they came home nearly a week later than anticipated. Midrixie explained, feeling confident that her parents would understand, much like her cousin. To her surprise, they did not and her cowardly cousin wasn’t there to help when she needed! They expected much of her, as the only child. They could never let her go, they only wished for her daughter to remain with them and, if she so desired, expand the family lineage. Again, they concluded that it was yet another manifestation of her rebellion.

From that point forward, Midrixie was forced to work for her family. The family business, within Gnomeregan. Again, this lack of acceptance for their daughter’s free will and emotions caused her to retract from any meaningful conversation with anyone! Apathy was her companion, her heart grown cold to any form of flattery to her performance in the tasks given to her. She started to question herself, to question Gnomish society in her mind. She didn’t felt safe and loved enough to express her doubts and dark emotions.

She stopped to read, she stopped to wander in the streets of Gnomeregan. She also stopped spending time with her family outside of working hours.

 

Her thoughts were only hers to listen. And that’s when she started to talk to herself out loud, privately. Away from those that could hear her nagging, her complains, her questions, her tears, her hatred and rebellion.

But.. there’s always someone that can hear, even the darkest of secrets. Gnomeregan is an underground capital city. Within the ground, a large shadow is cast in every corner. It’s cold, logical. Much like the machinery that is build within it. And there are Gnomes that can fall into despair. Is any Gnome truly sane? There are stories that warn about the corruption of those with the most brilliant of minds when they are rejected by their peers. Midrixie, as trivial and not as tragic as her example can be compared to so many, is one of them. Born from a mere rebellion, never solved in adulthood. Her life was an illusion, created by her family and friends, much like the idea of being sane.

 

 

This darkness, this shadow.. it spoke. And it told her that “Sanity is an Illusion”.

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Hi! I’m a [Label]

 

(Obligatory comment about the featured image)

 

Good afternoon!

 

It’s been a while since I wrote something more.. existential, abstract yet sententious. This is a topic that I’ve been personally invested for years since I decided to look outside the little cult indoctrination box that I’ve, since then, abandoned completely.

 

Labels. Personally, I loathe them. Such a convenient social trap that we all fall into, with no exception, without even noticing. With labels, comes the human desire to form our own tribes, our own bubbles. And within the bubbles, a cult mentality is developed. And when there’s a cult mentality, it is acceptable to demonize those outside of it. To invite others into the tribe, into the cult. The cult of a [label], where you have abandoned your individuality, your potential. Molded to fit the criteria and the ideology of the tribe, which then leads to the development of stereotypes to those from the outside. Our happiness exists as long the other members agree that you belong in this tribe. Singing in one voice, such a beautiful shallow melody!

And all of this.. because being part of a cult of a [label] makes you feel safe from your own fragile unfulfilled ego that has never bloomed because society pressured you into tiny little boxes. Boxes are easier to organize, to label, to talk in praise or distastefully.

Or perhaps a label makes you feel unique, special. It gives you the love you need from those who look up to the label you carry. Either with amazement or as an oppressed individual that needs to be heard. The virtual signaling, the voices that perceive you as a complex human being with enough experience to raise the voice with authority against those from other tribes and labels. Clearly, an individual with a good moral compass and intentions that could do no wrong. Proudly informing about the [label]. They are the [label]. Without it, they are nothing, lost, boring. No one likes an average.

But enough about the abstract thinking. This has always been a problem with society, with humanity.

 

It’s.. so easy to fall. I’m no exception, and neither are you. Even if we vainly, yet graciously, remind our acquaintances of how we avoid labeling ourselves and others and, instead, treat everyone and oneself as an unique individual.. we still decide to label ourselves over things that are nonessential and, when our individual egos are under pressure, we are quick to dismiss others and label them. Because it’s easy to label.

The reasons as to why we resort to labels depends from person to person. Either to protect our own egos, to attack or because of our biases. Plus, it’s easier to communicate! Instead of revealing your personality, likes and dislikes, little by little and within the boundaries of your own vocabulary.. how about packing everything into a nifty worded label? Someone already did the job for you, to wrap part of your being into a word, in the dictionary.

 

But.. is it really worth it? Is it worth to carry the burden of calling yourself a [label]? Of introducing yourself by the use of a [label] or two? Can you handle the pressure of those who have gained a bias or dislike over your labels? Will you crumble and decide to fight back by talking down to those of the opposing tribes by insulting them with more labels? Will you ever reach your true potential as an individual?

Will you.. truly be happy? Or will you destroy the child within you as you walk the path?

 

If you ask an average person about what is the key to achieve true happiness, they’ll answer with a cliche that almost everyone knows it deep down. That, most of all, be yourself. Do the things you truly enjoy, be with those who know you for what you are and not for something you are not.

No one knows who you are except yourself. It’s a life journey that requires you to reflect on your own emotions, your own subconscious and thoughts. The way the world reacts to your presence, to your words, to your gestures and actions. To release the chains that society will try to impose on you in order to mold you into an ideal. To join the tribe, the nation, the religion, the cult, the tribe, the family.

Society will try to label you. As a child, you will swallow those labels and you will accept them, accept what society wants of you. Will society choke you, with all the chains they’ll wrap you up with? Like a riddle, will you find yourself beneath the darkness? And if you do indeed break some of those chains, will you learn nothing from the experience and repeat history against yourself and others?

 

It is more than obvious that we are social creatures and we live in society. We cannot excuse ourselves from society in general, from other people. We will repeat the same mistakes over and over and it will always be a never ending struggle.

However, there are plenty of ways to avoid most of those issues and mistakes. We cannot expect society to change according to our own flawed ideals. People will use labels, people will form tribes, people will eventually form cults. People will love and people will hate.

 

Obviously, being aware that humans have that quirk that they cannot avoid is a good way to be self conscious when we do it. We can become aware when others do it and, as such, avoid unnecessary pain and repression. After all, we don’t want to regress to a state of blind devotion to a cult like mentality, do we? Knowing when we are being dismissive to an opposing view given to preconceived biases and, thus, feeling no guilt over labeling someone as something hurtful; allow us to stop, reconsider our stance and make the necessary adjustments to avoid any form of bigotry and offence.

 

Examining ourselves will also allow us to reach our true selves. No one knows you better than you. And you want people to know you for what you truly are. There’s no better felling than being loved for what you actually are and not for what you aren’t. This is basic and common knowledge yet, regardless, we hold ourselves back all the time. This is not wrong by itself depending on the circumstances and the people around us but the goal should always be to not lose focus of your own self and not fall for the pressure of those who speak louder and with authority.

 

Of course, again, it’s important to note that we do live alongside other people. Basic etiquette should never be dismissed. We cannot expect the whole society to bow down to our own individual thoughts that may, or not, be controversial for the majority. Instead of being arrogant about our self perceived superior ideologies that we believe to have, it is perhaps more beneficial for ourselves and for society if we respect the opposing view. Or, if the topic really matters and both sides want to remain civil, have an honest yet polite discussion. Never demonizing, but acknowledging the differences and allow the other side to move on, an agree to disagree.

 

Avoiding to use labels to describe ourselves and others is also a good method to avoid conflict and further divisions. We will never know how a certain person feels about the [label]. When you use a label on yourself (specially if it represents a very small group of individuals), you are allowing others to create an image of you that may very well be incorrect. Or, also just as worse, you are allowing others to use you as an example for future encounters with anyone that shares the same label. And not everyone is able to look beyond the labels and the stereotypes, the bigotry that blinds them. When you label yourself and someone already has a few biases that affect their judgement, everything you say or do will be taken accordingly to their biases. Like a translator, their interpretation of your own words and actions may not be accurate to reality. Because they cannot look beyond the stereotypes and the biases. You’ve told the world that you are a [label]. The world will judge you has a [label], specially if you make your own public life and personality around the [label].

 

So it’s best to avoid the use of [labels], specially when you are introducing yourself to a person. With most people in society! Can you handle the pressure of being judged because of the label that you carry on your chest at all times? You lose your individually and you become “that one [label]”.

Labeling others is also not beneficial. It matters not how much they appear to act, present themselves or even the words they use seem alike to those of whatever [label]. When you label someone, you can no longer see them as the way they truly are. And people aren’t blind. If they feel they are being judged wrongly by you, they will avoid you. Or, worst case scenario, they will judge you back and just as harshly. Plus more divisions occur. Is that what you wish? To humiliate and to be humiliated in return? Not everyone will stay quiet when they are constant targets of wrong accusations over things they are not guilty of.

 


 

Anyway.. I’m quite sure that I’m rambling at this point over things that most people are already aware of. And quite an unorganized ramble this was!

 

Yet here we are. Walking back to previous times. Society is fracturing more and more. No one wants to listen to the other side. No one wants to respect the other side. Demonizing the other side is acceptable. Violence is becoming acceptable in some cases, over petty disagreements. Sensationalism, virtue signaling, bigotry on all sides (no exceptions). Labels being thrown around quite wrongly and names being tossed on the mud because someone said something that they shouldn’t or wasn’t understood. Over-sensitive, adults throwing tantrums, more division, more segregation. More labels, no debate, no arguments, no facts, no truth.

All of this.. because we want to be heard. We want to be loved. We want to be fulfilled. We want to save.. our own egos, to satisfy it, to feel safe. For others to tickle our ears with the things we want to hear and not the things that should be said. Because everything is offensive. Because everything is wrong. Because I’m a [label].. and you are a [label], thus less human.

 

The time to be honest, the time for civilized conversations and respectful debates.. is needed. But those times never existed on the full extent. There were no golden days of liberty and freedom of speech. But just different shades of ignorance, on every side of the spectrum.

The most important thing to remember is that no one believes that what they are doing.. is wrong. No one believes to be doing something bad. There are no bad people, just people who sometimes do bad things that they feel justified to and, ultimately, see it as good. And some of those bad things are written in history books and will be reminded by everyone.

As long as we know that, as long as we know that we are all humans who just want to be good people, honest to their true selves.. we will be able to respect them and to criticize their ideas without resorting to mockery, witch hunting or personal attacks. That has never worked in the long run..

 

But why? Why is there a need to explain the obvious? I believe everyone knows all of these things that I wrote within their own hearts. It’s common sense, there’s nothing new in what I’m saying. But again.. here we are. We are.. so dumb. Going back, instead of going forward. Times are changing again.

But hey, we have labels to make things easier for us! Just pick a [label], join a tribe (and, therefore, a cult), slap others with [labels] (virtue signaling) and everyone on your tribe will love you because you totally showed them! Oh you.. prolific snob you!

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