Me in Mosquito City

I wake up in the morning long past my alarm has sounded, feeling drowsy but yet surprisingly refreshed, though my eyes tell the consequential tales of last night's moonlighting.

The body count around me is high, higher than the average. Numerous bodies lay slew across the battlefield. The death toll will once again go undone, the names, the ranks and the code numbers of the brave soldiers around me will go forgotten.

Even if a death toll was to be done, who would do it? Certainly not I, as I lack the Time, the Will and the Strength of Heart to do it.The Time because I could be late to work once again as the city's traffic has no sympathy for empathizers.

The Will because there is always something to do that I have left in procrastination's never filled chambers, this task definitely does not deserve to be brought up.The Strength of Heart because I don't want to burst into tears brought upon by sleep deprivation which could be mistaken for empathy.

Wait maybe if I do have empathy for the fallen soldiers I will be able to live peacefully with these beings. How else was Adam able to live peacefully with them? A truce driven by mutual empathy?

Stop why all this talk about a truce? When I know what needs to be done. I need to wage a war, not an individual one of insecticides and mosquito nets but a communal one that aims at ensuring no breeding grounds are left untouched. How can I belong to the class of superior beings but live life getting fat in the day but getting sapped at sunset.

Okay, here comes the problem, I am a Netizen, a digital native, a social media citizen;  an activist online but a sluggard offline, a boisterous loud mouth online but a mind my own business talk not kind of fellow offline. My reason, social media has helped project my voice across borders and boundaries, all I need to do is sit back and rant a lot. Someone somewhere will be motivated by my words and get it done, so that I may later down the line reap the fruit of my social contribution.

P.S: To the brave but dead mosquitoes who lay across the battlefield of my room l salute you. To those still left readying for the night's battle, bear in mind that there will be no songs, no recitals and no moving speeches at your death.