Ryan Clifton

“Hope is my enemy. She is a sucuubus who descends upon sleeping humankind, whispering that there is a future. A broth future, as a matter of fact; as long as we persevere in extending our essences through the lives of our children, and through their children. She is a lost, a snakeoil salesman bartering chimira for generative fluid, which she sucks out of us before casting out withered husks onto the fire. And so we fall, row upon row like seasons of corn, but not until we relinquish our seed into her exploitive hands. For in the end, we all die, and only Hope lives on. And we for, sometimes mourned for a season, but presently forgotton. Ultimately, like it or not, we are the futures dirt. This is the state of affairs we choose to subject our children to”
― Jim Crawford, Confessions of an Antinatalist