Reckoning

Captain's log, supplemental:

It seems I've sat in this same area for an eternity, albeit discontinuously. The people come and the people go, their faces never staying the same for long. Here, mingling and earnest studying seems to blend seamlessly. All these people, from different walks of life, from different programs of study, they indeed seem a disparate, heterogeneous group of people. But there is one thing that binds them all these different people together, one critical aspect that no one is probably aware of: they are destined to remain strangers, to me at least. They will continue on with their lives without ever knowing me, the snowflake-man.

Curses be to fate! Why do they not shower me with their attentions and their affections? I would so gladly do it for them and yet they seem content to allow me (the snowflake-man) to wither away in obscurity. Oh, the casual cruelty; oh, the humanity.

Surely, they will rue this day. They will, won't they? Their destined omission is surely justification for their eventual torment, right? Yes, and I will be the instrument of their demise. Every last one of them will fall before me. They will look back, at the very end, and wonder, "What did I do to deserve this?", and they will know nothing, because they had shielded their eyes, their minds, for far too long.

Blessed will be the day that justice will be reaped for (and by) the snowflake-man (me).