(no subject)
Character: Ryan Bullock
Fandom: Original character
Prompt: What defines "humanity"?
Rating: G to PG
Shouldn't it be who, instead of what? Then again, let any one person think they've got the only right definition, and look how fast they put everyone they don't like or understand on the outside of it.
You can only answer the question for yourself. Only you know where the line's drawn in your own book of days. People these days may love handy labels for everything, personality, faith, appearance, sexuality, politics, race, ethnicity, yadda yadda pancakes, but humans aren't all that black and white.
So for me, what's most human? If I had to pick one word to describe us?
Not love. I've met men and women who were as empty of any feeling, any empathy for other living creatures, as the void of space. They might pretend,
but never knew.
Even so--they're not animals. Not monsters. Another facet of humankind. Fractured, or flawed, maybe? But just as much part of us as the greatest saints or innocents.
Choice. The ability to look upon the world, to say, this is good, or it is not. I will hold to things as they are, work to preserve them, or lend myself
to change it for the better, or worse. Create, or destroy. Heal, or fight.
The insane, obstinate insistence in believing that one person can change...anything, even though we all know that the only real certainty is that life ends.
Fandom: Original character
Prompt: What defines "humanity"?
Rating: G to PG
Shouldn't it be who, instead of what? Then again, let any one person think they've got the only right definition, and look how fast they put everyone they don't like or understand on the outside of it.
You can only answer the question for yourself. Only you know where the line's drawn in your own book of days. People these days may love handy labels for everything, personality, faith, appearance, sexuality, politics, race, ethnicity, yadda yadda pancakes, but humans aren't all that black and white.
So for me, what's most human? If I had to pick one word to describe us?
Not love. I've met men and women who were as empty of any feeling, any empathy for other living creatures, as the void of space. They might pretend,
but never knew.
Even so--they're not animals. Not monsters. Another facet of humankind. Fractured, or flawed, maybe? But just as much part of us as the greatest saints or innocents.
Choice. The ability to look upon the world, to say, this is good, or it is not. I will hold to things as they are, work to preserve them, or lend myself
to change it for the better, or worse. Create, or destroy. Heal, or fight.
The insane, obstinate insistence in believing that one person can change...anything, even though we all know that the only real certainty is that life ends.