Titles are overrated

Hate flows through me live a white water river and my thoughts are agitatedly complaining about getting wet. A thorough and building anger has been rising in me for some time. I don't feel it building towards anything. My mind is an empty lot waiting to be filled. My dreams are renters promising a long term commitment but nothing can occupy this space for very long. I'm waiting for that swanky cafe to come in and attract just the right kind of people.
I'm not a good allegory for anything, not a symbol, not a metaphor. My thoughts are allusions to those thoughts regurgitated to me. The cycle continues. The original thinkers had the only truth and it was simple. Evolutionary desire to expand and expound has created differences. Human being hate each other for the system we perpetuate by trying. Effort to differentiate breeds contempt because we seek the path of least resistance be it race, creed, or religion. The religious schisms make me laugh because if any of these people knew their own message as well as those who wrote it did, and what brilliant writers they were, then the similarities would manifest themselves in an epiphany of clarity. No religion that survives truly preaches hate. People preach hate through preaching difference.
Assimilation is not possible now because we have decided as a race to avoid accepting everyone as is. Somewhere along the course of history the executive decision to perpetuate the denial of obvious truths about similarities between all people was made.
And yet I am filled with rage. In stories, movies, etc. this anger comes out in some form or another. I'm waiting.
The rising tide, the overflowing dam, the busting pipes, the tipping canoe, the capsized boat, the sunken oar, the feared great deep, the stream empties into the gulf and the gulf empties into the ocean and the ocean is all one being with nothingness in between. Is there a metaphor to be found? The fish don't know and neither do I.
There is a fear beyond the unknown like a sick game show that forces choices that only lead to more choices and the house always wins. That fear is the non-resolution of the unknown. It is because of this fear that we don't think we just expect. We don't reason, we just search and when we can't search, we give up, and when we realize that we've given up we search again only to find that there was nothing to be found. Some times we find a small prize. Some times a contestant wins a good amount of cash. But very few win the million. Those lucky few. Who are they? Where are the happy people who have solved it, life's material concerns. Are they happier than me? Is that not a greater fear, relative happiness? Happiness is only real when shared because what we really want is euphoria. Euphoria is escape and escape has driven the two biggest science projects of civilization: the plane and space exploration. We don't want to know what's out there, we want to go out there. Happiness is defined in sadness, black in white, and escape in hate of stagnation. I'm a stagnant puddle and no one is going to throw a stone in me to cause a ripple. I can ripple myself, but perhaps if I look further into the pond, I'll see the bottom, clear as Walden pond.