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"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."
Man, those words are simple but so true. The guy who said that must have been pretty "corrupted" himself. Heh.
But does power really corrupt? Or is it just in its nature to do so? If power's nature is to corrupt, does that mean everyone who has power is corrupted too? Slightly? Partially? Fully? And who, then, is the most corrupt?
Is it the police, who have the power of the law over people? Or the military, armed to the teeth with weapons of war? Or is it the politicians who control both the police and the militaryâand hold the keys to the big red buttons?
Wait. What about the people who fund those politicians? The ones lurking in the shadows, pulling all the strings?
If corruption stems from power, then to find the most corrupt, we need to figure out who holds the most power.
If I asked any random person, "Who is the most powerful being?" they'd probably say, "God." Makes sense. He's literally the source of all power. The Almighty. The Big Boss.
But if God is the source of all power and power corrupts⊠then is God the source of all corruption?
Probably not. That's blasphemous, right? But then again, angelsâthose second-most-powerful beingsâworship God. In Islam, angels can't disobey Him. In Christianity, they can. So⊠maybe?
But let's not stop there. What about God's followers? People who claim to believe in Him? Some blow themselves up in His name. Some kill others in His name. And some believe they're chosen by God and see the rest of us as expendable.
So⊠are those people enlightened? Corrupted? Or is my dumb brain just incapable of understanding?
Honestly, I don't know. After all those blasphemous thoughts, though, I'm pretty sure Heaven isn't on the table for me anymore. But hey, I'm just doing what Grandma told me to: "If you have nothing to do, think about God." Thanks, Grandma. Love you.
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Now, about that ceiling.
I opened my eyes, and there it wasârocky, dark, ominous. Not your average room ceiling. Looked more like a cave. My first thought?
"Damn. Am I in hell?"
Where's the fire? The demons? The eternal torment? Maybe Hell's under renovation, and this is the waiting room. Either way, I decided to make the most of it and do what I always do when I'm bored: overanalyze my life.
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It all started when my dad decided we were moving to America. The "land of freedom," the "land of opportunity." In reality? It's the land of overpriced healthcare and people who believe in flat Earth theories.
Back home, we had a big family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, all living under one roof. Chaos, sure, but it was home. Then Dad uprooted us, chasing his "American Dream."
The streets in America were cleaner, but the people? Absolute garbage. I didn't fit in. Too short. Too brown. Too Muslim. Oh, and I was neither a genius nor an idiot, which meant I didn't even get the stereotypical "Asian kid" pass.
Middle school was rough. At first, I couldn't even speak English properly. I was an easy target. But then I discovered my two superpowers:
1. I was terrible at fighting, so physical bullying was out.
2. I was great at messing with people's heads, so mental warfare became my weapon of choice.
By the time high school rolled around, I had a reputation. People stayed away from me because, according to them, I was a psycho. I didn't mind. Being untouchable was liberating.
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Meanwhile, my parents were falling apart. Mom got a job, made new friends, and decided she didn't need Dad anymore. The arguments got louder. One time, Mom even called the cops on Dad. I thought it was hilarious.
Then came the cheating. Mom had a boyfriend. Dad barely reacted. Maybe he saw it coming. Maybe he was just too tired to care.
By the time I was graduating, I was done with both of them. I thought about going back to my home country but decided against it. Why? Two reasons:
1. Most people back home already had tough lives, and I didn't want to make it worse.
2. They didn't have pizza.
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Let's talk about Billy.
Billy was a football player. Not real football, mind youâAmerican football. The one where they barely kick the ball. Why even call it football? Call it "Handball with Tackling" and move on.
Anyway, Billy was big, dumb, and angry. A classic brute. He was great on the field until he wasn't. Started ignoring the coach, losing games, and eventually got kicked off the team.
Billy didn't take it well. In his genius brain, he decided to seduce the coach's daughter, record it, and spread the video around school.
The coach was furious. Cops got involved. Charges of child pornography were thrown around. But Billy's rich dad swooped in, threw money at the problem, and poofâthe whole thing disappeared. Billy got suspended, and Life moved on.
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