The blindfold pulled over our curious eyes want us to think that there is a higher purpose to life. One that binds us to a moral code of never hurting those who do not deem to hurt us. But it they hides from our eyes is the knowledge that we have no enemies, and thus nobody to endow with hurt. All human life is a dire struggle against the antagonist of death, remembrance, and the everlasting void. We struggle to push back on the border of our limits as they push upon us strife, war, famine, and genocide under the control of their whims. The seeds of oppression not needing to be planted in the hearts of the good, neither in the bad, but in those who desire to make a spark before their light goes out. To relish in the warmth of their own feeble fire among the cold darkness of the void entrapping us all to this universe and its game of gods. The forces we cannot counteract, time, gravity, and fate. Wrung around our necks as the noose pulls tighter and the fault lines between those of our own kind grow wider and deeper still. Us humans, with all of our psychology and deeper understanding of the universe and of ourselves, are but a pawn in the tournament of whoever watches over our pitiful existences and laughs while enjoying a drink. Nothing but a placeholder, a spot in the sweet sixteen of the bracket that governs fate, which governs us all, and has the power to nurture rebellion or crush it. But fate is an everlasting concept, and those who have control over it cannot be attacked. This is in turn because attacking those who control fate is the same as taking a pair of scissors and cutting the strings yourself. Severing yourself from existence before a fiber of your being lays your eyes upon those above fate, as it was never your fate to see them, but to die trying. Just as they wrote, only a placeholder.