This might sound random, but here's a question that's been gnawing at me lately.
Are people equal or not?
Not "we're all human" equal, or "every life has value" equal. I mean equal in the raw, unfiltered sense of the word. The kind of equality people write laws about. March on the streets for. The kind they teach you in school.
Society parrots it like gospel: equality between men and women, the abled and disabled, the rich and poor. Children are spoon-fed the idea like it's a fact of life.
But facts don't need defending. They just are.
You don't have to remind someone gravity exists every ten minutes. You don't have to debate oxygen. But equality? Equality, on the other hand, always needs defending. That's because deep down, even the loudest believers don't really buy into it.
They'll shout, cry, protest—but you can see it in their eyes. They know the truth. The world isn't fair, and it never has been.
The words are comforting. Clean. Easy to swallow.
But they're lies.
People aren't equal. They never were, and they never will be.
And yet society clings to the illusion. They wrap it in laws, slogans, and children's cartoons. Because admitting the truth would be too painful.
I used to listen to people rant about representation—how women should be in more jobs, how everyone deserves access to housing, how using the term "disabled" is somehow offensive. They try to equalize outcomes without ever acknowledging that inputs were never equal to begin with.
Different bodies. Different minds. Different bloodlines. That's the raw truth.
You could call it cynical. I call it obvious.
Men and women aren't the same. Not physically, not mentally, not even hormonally. Disabilities don't vanish just because you dress them in kinder words. And money? Don't even get me started.
Some people pop out of the womb with a silver spoon jammed so far down their throat they've never even tasted struggle. Meanwhile, others are born with nothing and still claw their way through the dirt, scraping together the pieces of a life they were never given a fair chance to live.
That's admirable. I respect it.
But it doesn't mean the world is fair, it just makes them the exceptions. And the system doesn't fear exceptions, it uses them as proof the rules work.
Take a classroom. Fill it with twenty students. One of them is naturally gifted—smart, athletic, charming. The other nineteen might work twice as hard, but they'll never quite catch up. Not really. Maybe they close the gap a little, but the gifted one always stays ahead, even when he's coasting.
But even that kind of unfairness is still within human limits. If the difference is just wealth or talent, maybe, just maybe, you could level the playing field with enough time and dedication.
But here's the real punchline.
That only applies in your world, my old one.
In my current one? That's a goddamn joke.
Because here, we have something else. A gift. A curse. A lottery ticket at birth called a Quirk.
You get a good roll, you win the game before it starts. And if you roll snake eyes?
You're done.
There's no making up for that. No amount of training or trying will get you there.
You're just... behind. Permanently.
No amount of effort makes up for being born with a useless quirk, or none at all. That's the unspoken reality. People say hard work beats talent, but they never mention what happens when talent has a fucking nuclear weapon strapped to its back.
Let me put it plainly.
Some people are born with quirks that can melt steel, control time, or impose rules on the world. Others? They can make their fingernails glow in the dark. And you want to tell me those people are equal?
Grow a fucking brain.
I've seen what passes for "heroes" these days. I've seen the mediocrity they elevate, and I've seen what true power looks like—what it feels like—when it's flowing through your veins like liquid fire.
So when people start shouting about justice, fairness, or some bullshit utopia where everyone is on the same level?
I laugh.
Because I know something they don't.
I don't want to be equal. I don't need to be fair. I'm not interested in playing by rules made for weaker men.
I used to ask myself why I felt so… disconnected. Why I couldn't care like the others did. They cry over sob stories and reach out to save people who wouldn't do the same for them. They believe in heroes. In happy endings.
I used to think maybe something was wrong with me.
But I know the truth.
There's nothing wrong with me. I've simply seen the world as it is, not as people wish it to be.
And what I see is a game rigged from the start. A society that worships power, pretends it doesn't, and condemns anyone who doesn't play dumb.
But I'm not here to flip the table.
I'm here to own it.
So I'll let the sheep chase their illusions. Let them choke on words like "hope" and "hero."
I'll be the one standing above it all.
Because I?
I have no equal.