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Selective Empathy

  A selective empathetic is a more sinister evil than the outright unempathetic. The unempathetic is quite small in numbers, and are under more scrutiny. The selective empathetic is one of reflective desire, picking and choosing those to be glad for and wishing to prosper based off of desired personal gain, gain that involves putting others down in the process. This level of empathy is pure submission to outside preachers, outside systems, media, literature, art, and economics, and represents a dark and fallible inner sense. Letting things simply happen, apathetic to their greater truth, nihilistic in meaning, and a walking product of guiding forces around them. A pure empathetic is empathetic to all in all situations, noticing the humanity in all. It is sad to notice the selective empathetic being a prevalent and lauded endeavor, when the qualities of such selective empathetic are thought of also as manipulation. A great contradiction in social morality and personal character judgeme

fat_fucks && thirty-fives

Approaching the surface of the once beautiful Earth, there flew a tornado-y flying machine

It wiped the surface of the blue pearl and removed the remnants of souls

In thirty-five years, the fat man ate his own

In thirty-five years, soaring was a new hope, and a fictitious one at that.

There wasn't much to love about the fat man,

Except that he was a close reminder to the kids that being fat was ugly

That's all he was good for anyways.

But also the fat man was you, and the fat man is me, and the fat man is the fat man.

Most importantly, the fat man is all of us.

Sitting upon the throne of enlightenment was his 50-count McNuggets with a large Diet 

Coke (he didn't want the extra calories.)

But his fatness was glorious, so much to the world that he developed type II diabetes at 

thirty-five, and ashamedness forced him into devouring matter.

But the fat man was a hog of the world itself moreso. He hogged its real estate, and used 

fat fires to power his fans to cool his sweat he developed from sitting on his phone. 

But, most importantly, the fat man was a good man, or at least as good as everyone else.

The fat man wanted no more than to be left alone and content with his indulgence.

BUT THERE WAS A VILLAIN! His name is goody-two shoes skinny mcgee.

Now, the fat man was jealous of goody-two shoes skinny mcgee, and was enraged when he

passed by him.

"Fuck you dickhead!!!" he would shout, and goody-two shoes skinny mcgee would know that

he was just upset with his situation. 

Goody-two shoes skinny mcgee ate healthy vegan foods for himself, and the environment.

Goody-two shoes skinny mcgee knew there were trade-offs in this world.

The fat man ate his thirty-fifth, uh, whatever it was he was eating, and his mind flew away.

Approaching the year 2035, the fat man began to become uncomfortable with the new.

Many things were gone he once knew, and his indulgence wasn't as treasured as it once was.

The fat man ate the moon, and started mooing.

The last heart was off the surface of the blue pearl, and WALL-E started working.

The fat man looked at the earth in upsetness.

His eyes started watering for his last attempt at a lovely life would have to move away.

In the sky of the earth was a toxin, but it was invisible.

It made it hard for him to understand just how bad the situation had gotten.

He had wondered why he couldn't just stay there and live there.

The issue became clear when he went back in time. Specifically to 2020.

There were many fat men back then, but the fattest of them was far yet to be seen.

There was a war being held, an invisible one.

A self destruction of himself he saw in his vision.

The fat man was eating his own home when he approached the time machine.

But, the fat man couldn't stop.

It was far from the fat man's fault though, for it was the fatness of the world that killed it.

Fat man knew there was something to be done though. Luckily in his possession, the one use

time machine lead him to believe the problems really began in 2020.

He knew, though, that he would lose all memory of what had happened, or what will happen.

But, he knew he would at least be looking through a computer at a blog one day,

And it would all click

If you'd like to know the meaning behind this poem, check out this Facebook analysis I made of it: