Divisive

2023-10-15

"This book will perhaps only be understood by those who have them-selves already thought the thoughts which are expressed in it—or similar thoughts."— Ludwig Von Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico Philosophicus

"What a crock of shit," they said as they shoved their copy of the Tractatus face down onto a worn desk. "One line in and it's already spewing bullshit. Are you seeing this?" With an annoyed look, they gestured to the only other object on the desk, a severed head with a glassy expression plasterd on its dead face. Dried blood surrounded the stump where the neck ended. The face itself was stuck perpetually flapping its gums, as rigor mortis had set in as they were talking, leaving them to continue doing that action indefinitely. Of course, no sound came out of the head because the vocal cords were pinned down via two precisely inserted acupuncture needles. Nevertheless, it kept trying to speak.

"[CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED.]", the head seemed to say. They were pretty good at reading lips, especially when the lips were dead. Nobody else but them knew how to read the lips of the dead.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. People who write stuff like this should die, seriously. You have to be pretty fucking stupid if you think I can somehow read your mind or something, Jesus Christ dude."

The head flapped its gums.

"Precisely."

They spun around in the chair they were in for a few minutes before picking the haphazardly discarded book up again.

"Not sure why people gas this mid-wit up like he's the second coming. God, just look at this." They prostrate the book towards the head and fan though it quickly. "It just looks like someone forgot to take their meds, and now wants to make it everyone else's problem."

"[CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED.]"

"What, you wanna say that there's something that can be gleaned from this nonsense> Half of the book doesn't even make sense. I'm a Math major, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking about when I see equations."

Half of their face contorted into a devilish expression, one that might've been confused for a stroke at first glance. A whispery laugh slipped through their lips and contaminated the air. It sounded much like a broken whistle being blown by someone who was having their entrails being turned inside out.

This continued for a while, the thing laughing, and the head yapping. The head's expression didn't change one bit, but they detected some sort of change in its tone. In an instant, their face relaxed and became as blank as a sheet of stone. They stared into the head's glassy eyes with their own dead expression.

"And I am human, you know. I get that these people have feelings or whatever, but they should expect to GET shit when they GIVE shit, haha. God."

They ripped the head up off the desk. This was a little more difficult than they imagined, as the dried blood acted as a glue that kept the head stuck down.

"[CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED. CONTENT REMOVED.]"

"Maybe you're one of those mid-wit frauds, too. I gotta cut you open and see what's going on in there, but...eh, too much work. You should just hiding shit that isn't plain english, lamewad."

Their face contorted into that strange shape again as they slammed the head down onto the floor, stuck the copy of the Tractatus on top of it, and started stomping on the pair. Their boot dug into the book as they trampled the two. As the head was pounded into the ground, its already fragile flesh started to tear.

They ground their foot down further and further until eventually the acupuncture needles loosened themselves, and the head's voice could be heard again, mixed with the tortured laughter of the thing.

"i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you."

"i love you. "i love you."" "i love you.

i love you. "i love you"

i.

love.

you."