Experience’s implication that the world is indifferent to our fate shakes the core, loosening forever the foundations of trust in fate’s reason.
Meaning and purpose do not remain empty, non-personal words, but evolve, eventually filling a canvas with spattering pastels of belief. But between the bright droppings of color lies the interconnected darkness of indifference. The black patches grow until all that is seen is vacuum, a nothingness. This is nature’s indifference.
The cool sword thrust of man’s is far more disturbing. To be told by a person of respect, of trust, simply of power, that they are indifferent to your situation evokes in the spirit nothing but a black hole, devoid of sufficient compassion to even care. No spell or curse bites the soul like invisibility.
To lack meaning is one level of cosmic uncertainty. To lack the tug on the soul to acknowledge existence is surely mankind’s cruelest vice. Human indifference to humans requires cunning and calculation deep in the ego’s realm.
Indifference sings perhaps mankind’s single fleeting truth, the simple message: “Friend, go to hell.”