The Revelation

A surprising and previously unknown fact, especially one that is made known in a dramatic way.

"revelations about his personal life"

The revelation.

Scary, yeah?

Why do we view surprising things as ‘scary?’

Why do we view dramatic as bad?

Why is the unknown so worrying?

Because of you.

You were the unknown, and still are.

How could your parents possibly know that they would end up with you? Exactly you?

How could my parents know?

And how could you know?

How could you know that time you hurt yourself, cried so hard your head hurt, drank so much water you got bloated was going to happen?

You didn't.

It was a revelation.

A revaluation.

Of your values, your morals.

You expectations and impossibles.

When a revelation happens, you reevaluate.

What happens now?

Nothing, sweet locur.

Now we sit and wait.

For what?

For it to play out.

They pass you by, that little one in the street.

That man flicking a cigarette to its burn, its dimise. His dimise.

That girl biting the skin off her fingers, chewing it.

She probably does it to her feet, too.

What a revelation!

But it reveals something.

Doom.

That's what you're afraid of, aren't you.

Revelation reveals doom. Big or small, something is doomed to happen, someone is doomed, and terribly so.

But what can you do?

Can you even help yourself?

The Revelation.

The Revelation is that you are helpless.

But that's not much of a shock, is it.