Being buried so deep in simulacra that the colors look wrong,the weight of lies and swirling currents of ever-contradictory propaganda distorting direction til you can’t even tell which way is up and everyone around you pretending that shit’s okay while you watch ragged shadows of humanity die on the street in front of ‘compassionate liberals’ makes the smell of smoke and sound of shattered glass the most beautiful thing in the world.

Edit: but maybe that’s only if you’ve got a soul, idk, was never a lib.