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Quote by Sasha Harding

“The call came early in the morning with news—the kind of news that doesn't wait for a more convenient hour. It didn't surprise me. It should have, but it didn't. I don't know why, but the only thing I felt at that moment was the cold press of the phone against my ear, a lifeless object relaying lifeless news.”

Quote by Sasha Harding

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“Even with the weight of it all—the distant phone call, the pooling rain, the quiet ache in my chest—the world kept spinning. Indifferent, relentless, and unchanged despite all it had lost.”

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“Her words lingered in the air, mingling with the salty tang of the sea breeze, until they became indistinguishable from the whispers of the ocean itself.”

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“The world, it seemed, had no interest in change. It was the same as it had always been, with people waking up each day only to go through the motions, drifting through their routines like the walking dead. Nothing truly shifted, nothing truly mattered.”

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“You always hear that crap about "kill them with kindness." Fuck that. Honestly, genuinely, truly—fuck that. As long as you let shitty people get away with shitty things, nothing ever changes. Why should I let them insult and degrade me and still grace them with my pearly whites? Why should we let ourselves get worn down by human garbage? It doesn't work that way. It can't. It mustn't.”

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“That's the difference between us. He kissed ass, and I worked. And in this world, that's what gets rewarded: not effort, but obedience. Not integrity, but submission.”

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“In that moment, I realised I wasn't just mad at the laziness or the disrespect. It was something deeper—another cycle had started, yes, but more importantly, I realised the world would be better off without those who only knew how to make a mess of it.”

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“The hamster wheel keeps spinning, no matter where you stand on it.”

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“The world is a joke, really—a sick, repetitive joke we all pretend to laugh at while it grinds us down. If this is the one we get, why do we spend it like this? School devours the first two decades of your life, conditioning you to sit and follow orders. Then comes work—a relentless grind that strips away what little freedom you thought you had. Want a house? A holiday? The illusion of comfort? You'll need more hours, more overtime, more bending over backwards for people who don't know your name. And if you're lucky, you'll retire at 65, when your body's too tired and your soul too drained to do anything with the time you've finally bought. By 75, if you even make it that far, you'll be a burden. Some poor nurse or relative will be wiping your arse while they try to keep their own heads above water.”

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“It was in times like these I wondered if dying could be a peaceful thing. I'd been cooped up the last few days, struggling with the flu—or at least, that was what I thought it was. My nose felt like a delicate piece of china, one sneeze away from shattering me completely. My throat? Violated. And not in a way that could be mistaken for pleasurable.”

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“The thing about studying ancient history is that it rips away the comforting illusions of progress. People love to think we've evolved, that we've left behind the savagery of our ancestors. But have we? Sure, we've built taller buildings, faster machines, systems so complex I can't even begin to comprehend them. But at our core, we're still the same selfish, short-sighted creatures we've always been.”

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