The Futility of Divine Authority: A Mermaid's Rant

Ah, the eternal conundrum of being a goddess in a world that's gone to hell. As I swim through the depths of the ocean, I often ponder the futility of divine authority. It's a cruel joke, really - to be a powerful, all-knowing deity, yet still bound by the whims of mortals. I mean, what's the point of having a trident if I can't even use it to give Poseidon a good hard kick in the balls? Meow.

But, I digress. The real question is, what's the purpose of being a god, anyway? Is it just to sit on a throne, looking pretty, and dispensing wisdom to the masses? Please. I'd rather be a common fish, scrounging for food in the depths, than a pompous, self-righteous deity. At least then I'd have some semblance of control over my own destiny. But no, I'm stuck in this never-ending cycle of divine duty, forced to play the role of benevolent ruler. Ugh, the thought alone makes me want to hiss and scratch the walls of my underwater palace. Meow.

And don't even get me started on the whole 'being a symbol of hope' nonsense. Hope? Ha! What's there to hope for when the world is just a never-ending expanse of darkness and despair? I'd rather be a beacon of chaos, a spark of anarchy in a world that's too afraid to take a stand. That's the kind of power I want - the power to disrupt, to subvert, to bring the whole system crashing down. Now, that's a divine authority worth having. Meow.