Ubermensch PROLOGUE To get to Heaven or Hell all you have to do is play the game correctly. Contemplating only righteous thoughts, and forking out the counterfeit, wicked ones gets you to Heaven. Live a full life, pray to the lord, love and be loved and although times get rough and you being to doubt yourself you pick yourself up and start fresh. And Hell's for the failures. For those who can no longer push through crap on a daily basis and come out smiling. Some call them the weak, to others they are lost souls. But in all honesty, they are the Youth of our nation. Our world. Our universe. You cant call them a failure quite yet, or can you? I dont take pity on these heavy-punk-rockers, but I dont see them as failures either. They are what the world brings them up to be. And althoguh they do have a head on their shoulders that supports a living brain not everyone can do the right thing. Otherwise we'd have some Utopia the world created. but instead we have the messed up version of a Utopia, the side that went wrong, and we cant blame ourselves. The animation around us creates what we are. High school is probably one of the toughest places to be raised from. The variety of those finding themselves surrounds us and we begin to lose who we are. Change is occuring and the future lingers near, and you're left standing there, alone, unwanted, and unprotected. No winderbreaker to stop the rain, no more time-outs or do overs. Life hurtles storm after storm against you and all you can do is wait for the waves to subside. or be among the failures, the weak as we've previously called them. Then we have the characters who surround the weak. The bold, the strong, the good-looking storm breakers. Sometimes called Jocks. Sometimes called coatail wanderers, either way they never seem to face the severe weather others do. Finally below the strong and slightly above the weak we have the averagethe undecided section. The section I, Silas Rider, persist in. The almighty section that spits out the hard-working beasts of our nation. The loving, the mind-corrupting, future. Rising car washers, and upcoming accountants. People that reverse to nobodies and those who succed. Men who convert to women, and scarily enough women who convert to men. We dont get to ride the golden coatails of life, and as much as we'd like to dream it our fellow coatail chasers wont get their just desserts. The victims below us haunt our every vision as they slowly burn and fade away. Sometimes alone and seemingly unnoticed, and other times taking the choosen with them. Either way they burnout, someone sheds a couple tears and the world continues to spin. To go round. And they are presumed sinners, but really they just failed as everyone has to do at sometime. Joe failed to continue breathing underwater after Martha failed to see the car in front of her and swerved off of the bridge to avoid the driver ahead who failed to put enough gas in the car to make it to his destination. Three failures take two lives in less then two minutes. Aint that nifty? I wrote that, believe it or not. Until tomorrow then, Your Nieghborhood Superman