What Charly Kirk's Murder Says about the Left

While I found myself at odds with much of what Charlie Kirk articulated—his rhetoric often veering into the realm of dogmatic fervor that chafes against my own skeptical disposition—I must concede that my lineage, rather than any fervent conviction, binds me to the cultural edifice of Christendom, a heritage I wear like an ancestral cloak, frayed but unyielding.
Yet it was the raw, unfiltered savagery unleashed in the wake of Charlie Kirk's murder that shattered the illusions, laying bare the primal barbarism festering at the heart of the progressive vanguard. In that crimson tableau of ideological frenzy, a profound lucidity pierced the fog: the unbridgeable chasm that compels me to regard so many of these self-anointed moral architects as existential adversaries in our inexorable culture war—not mere interlocutors in debate, but warriors whose worldview devours the very foundations of reason, liberty, and human flourishing.
Let the republic fracture, then, into a mosaic of balkanized enclaves, each a fortress of irreconcilable tribes, bristling with mutual suspicion and fortified animus. Such a devolution holds no terror for me; it merely accelerates the sorting of souls. I seek only the dominion of my own kin and convictions, a sovereign enclave where the light of voluntary association can flicker unmolested by the encroaching shadows of collectivist zeal.