I do not own American Horror Story: Apocalypse.
Thank Twitter Ryan Murphy for the picture.
Existential Crisis
He might have been the Antichrist.
But that didn't mean he knew what the hell he was doing.
He wanted to fulfill his purpose, bring about the Apocalypse.
Please his Father, like any good son.
But the problem was, he didn't know how to do that.
And ultimate annihilation didn't come . . .
Though it should, I mean something that important should-
. . . come with an instruction manual.
And good ol' Dad sure wasn't talking.
Are you even there?! Do you even exist?!
He knew the Dark Father did exist, of course.
He felt him.
But feelings didn't really accomplish anything.
You had to do things.
And nobody could really tell him what to do even though everybody was expecting him to do something.
It's not like being president.
You actually have to work at bringing about the End of Days.
BUT HOW?!
He'd had so much hope in his Dark Purpose when Mrs. Mead had been around.
She was the one person who had believed in him enough, cared about him enough to try not to die.
But then she had anyway, hadn't she?
They had killed her.
The witches.
She was gone, even her soul hidden from his Sight.
And anything that wasn't actually her would be a false idol, a false god with which to take false comfort in.
But it would be better than nothing.
At least until he could get the real thing back again.
And that, Michael guessed, was as good a motivator as any to do whatever he could to fulfill his purpose, bring about the Apocalypse.
And rise as the dark and powerful Son of Satan.
Blurted out from fantasticness of episode 8. And I'm not done yet.
Enjoy?
Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like. :)