This world had amazing potential.
It was envisioned with such promise, such expansive opportunity for exploration and adventure. Different and mysterious cultures, grand palaces and miles and miles and miles of unknown.
People used to have imagination. Like, violent, bloody imaginations, filled with horrid myths and lessons to be taught to the young ones before they go to sleep. Leaving home to travel was a big idea. Letters were actually written. Swordplay. Romance. Old wives tales stemming from some distant relatives eyewitness report of fairies. Miracles used to Occur. People learned trades - they could build their own homes, have helpful neighbors to help them. They could go out and CLAIM property if they really wanted to.
I hate progress. I wish everything were still a mystery. Only now I wish that Magic was actually real.
And of course there weren't all those pesky racial and gender stereotypes to hold me back.
Why can't life be like a fantasy novel? Wouldn't everyone just be fucking happier? I know I would.
God what a shitty day.