Loyalty is a dying bird.
Cast to the earth by the flung rocks of instant gratification and our incessant flavor of the moment obsession, to be loyal is to be past tense, out of it and just plain inferior.
Get what you want now. Do it now. Be it now. Waiting is for whiners and crybabies, and loyalty is the song losers sing when the moment has passed them by and they are left alone, clutching faded memories and wishing for better days.
You know who you are. You there, in the corner. Wishing for a better day to shine on your simple head; wishing for a person to come and rescue you from the long terminable illness that has you dying a little bit everyday; a little more rot coming off you at the edges with each waking moment. So what, you think to yourself. I can give it all up if I need to; I can leave it all behind.
So you think. But then you think again about how it all goes so fast. Poof – that’s it, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but a long day and a quick night – like a snap of your fingers, it’s gone. You build and build and climb and climb, and then at the perfectly right moment, a perfectly thrown rock knocks you and your little castle down to the ground.
‘Tis fitting. You really never were nothing more than a dead and rotten bird anyway.