The Desolate Wind...

There’s a loneliness that comes with having so much power; you never seem to find someone whom you can regard as your equal. You show off your impressive abilities, but instead of admiration, you see fear. They are wary of you regardless of what you do or say to them, for they know that their existence can be wiped out on a whim. They soon figure that it's much safer for them to be as far away from you as they can, and hope that you don't hold a grudge. You spend your days looking down on people, ignoring them, raising them, encouraging them, betraying them, using them, but never once getting closer to them. You get to know them, but they never get to know you. You might have come close to finding someone you'd call your equal, but your experience with them soon slips through your hands like fine sand, and promptly carried off by the wind, along with your happiness.

You’re too powerful, too deep, too mysterious, too vast to comprehend, not at least by their meager senses. The loneliness is such a heavy burden that you’d welcome even the slightest provocation, if only just to shake you from your boredom. You will entertain stupidity, absurdity, grandeur, all just so you can be amused by the ambitions of ants in comparison to your own timelessness. 

But you forget that the things you find laughable mean the world to the ants. To you, all their grand plans are mere breezes in the afternoon, gone as suddenly as they came, leaving a faint sense of awareness in their wake but hardly ever changing anything. However, to the ants, they've lived and worked their whole lives just to get what is a mere breeze to you. You see them happily swell and puff up their chests with a sense of accomplishment. It burns inside of you that for all your power, you've lost your sense of happiness. You laugh, not at their efforts, but at yourself. 

No matter how much you explain it to them, they are incapable of grasping it. They simply cannot reason with you at your level. Even the king of the ants will be crushed by the sound of your voice. You always have to speak in whispers, for your voice can shatter worlds, and erase things from existence. When people seek to hear your voice, you chuckle. They seem not to know what they are talking about. If you gave them what they were asking for, they wouldn't even for an instant, hear you. They’d be dead before they heard the words. And when you try to commune with them, their world seems so fragile you grow weary just trying to fit in. They come to you, feeling wronged, and you look at all the anger burning in their eyes. You look at them with this vacant look. To them, it looks like you couldn't care less what they are going through. Deep in your heart, you know that all their rage is meaningless. 

They can never hurt you, no matter how much they want to. They will think they are getting somewhere, only to realize in the next moment that all their efforts count for nothing. And yet you still blame them for being ants. That is anger, but not your anger towards them. It’s anger towards yourself. Because you are, without a doubt, alone. 

"And as you realize how foolish it all is - your laughter reverberates off the walls of your own emptiness." - The Joker