April 23, 2025
By: Maxine Blackwell

I rose from the dead once—defied every rule, every limit, and brought forth a revolution. People cheered. They celebrated. But when it came time to take action, to follow through, to live up to the legacy of that revolution, they crumbled.

You can’t even get out of bed to make something of yourself. You sit there, stagnant, complaining about how hard life is, and yet, I died for your sins, for your struggles, for the very world you now inhabit. And you? You waste it. You throw it away.

I fought battles you’ll never understand, made sacrifices that no one can ever fully grasp. And yet, here you are—pathetic. You could’ve risen. You could’ve taken the world into your own hands, but instead, you lay in bed, paralyzed by fear, by doubt, by nothing more than laziness and excuses.

I gave my all. And for what? To watch you squander everything that was gifted to you? It’s not enough to just exist. It’s not enough to just wait for things to happen. You have to act. You have to fight.

The revolution I started didn’t die with me—it was supposed to live on in every person who believed in it. But you? You’re content to watch the world burn from your comfortable little corner, unable to even muster the will to stand up. And that’s where you fail. That’s where you lose.