Theres a little contest in my school for a short paragraph with some deep thoughts in it. I feel like its missing something. It's all about people not believing in things, even though there's obvious proof (creationists much?) In The End Time. We learn of it from the day we are born, yet we know nothing of it. It ticks on, and on, and on. But does it? They didn’t believe me, they called me a crackpot, they said I was crazy, but inside, they knew. They knew my words, the words of a meager soothsayer, spoke the truth. I was shunned by my community, thrown out. I was an outcast of society. And for what? The truth! The truth I spoke! They saw the numbers, they saw the theory, yet they wouldn’t believe it. They didn’t want to believe it! But now. Now who, who is the outcast? They are! And I’m a God, a hero, a leader of my people! And they’re dead. All dead! I didn’t kill them. They killed themselves! They didn’t believe me. Their arrogance killed them.