What sick impulse is it in me that makes these lost causes into lost souls in need of salvation? And salvation – is that really what I want to give them? After all, what would this salvation consist of? Would it mean bringing them back into this world? Back onto the path from which they’ve strayed? No. No, this isn’t it, even if I tell myself that’s what I would like to do. For do I not at the same time contradict myself by wishing to keep them away from the path, away from this world, which I come to see as too callous, cold and cruel for these souls? These souls I exalt as being too good, too pure not to be overwhelmed by this world and the monsters that inhabit it. As though most people were corrupt! Ha! As though it is they that have strayed from the path! As though it is they who are lost! But in my perverse, absurd and infinitely sexist little mind do I not convince myself (How?! How do I convince myself of such absurdities?!!) do I not convince myself that humans are not corrupt, contaminated, but are merely naturally malicious, and that it is the lost souls that are corrupt, those young girls (and it is always young, vulnerable girls) are not whole – they are pure through an inverse corruption, their goodness emanates from a lack: they lack the maliciousness of most people. Their goodness is a form of impurity. Oh, and how by doing so I do them a disservice. How I rob them of any agency, of any face and will of their own. They are there, not to live in this world, but to be sheltered by me in perpetual fear and active blindness.
What scum I am. What a confused, mislead and ridiculous cretin. But don’t worry, I haven’t the power to make things worse. For in the end the joke is always on me. When you try to help these lost souls ward off this cruel world you are being cruel to them tenfold; and besides, the pure, lost, innocent, virginal and angelic lost souls are the ones most liable to hurt you. “For they know not what they do…”.
And you can’t blame them, as you created them that way.
Wednesday 22 October 2008
Sunday 12 October 2008
#
Lessons learnt this summer:
A) Escape from oneself is the best one can hope for in this world. Philosophy is self-indulgent, all philosophers are self-indulgent, and excessive exposure to philosophy breeds nothing but harmful self-absorption.
B) The only cures for the self-absorption bred by philosophy are as follows: alcohol; drugs - not depressants; incessant immersion in the company of others, to the point where you no longer remember how to be with yourself - you have to reach the point where you feel scared of your own company, and see this as a blessing; dancing; seemingly superficial music; stop reading anything "profound" or "intense". If possible, stop reading altogethe; take up a manual/physical occupation - this helps you to forget yourself and forget thinking altogether.
C) A and B build up your confidence; they allow you to get on with things without having to make recourse to writing. You no longer need to ask yourself why it is that anyone would even bother talking to you.
D) Ultimately, you are something of a social retard, and cannot help but inevitably fall back into the same vicious loops of self-doubt and paranoia which you have only been staving off; meaning, no matter how hard you try to distance yourself, remove yourself from yourself, to have no regard and even forget yourself, you are only putting something off, and you will eventually be sucked back into yourself and your own despair like some shitty black hole. Certain fundamental insecurities, phobias and paranoias are permanent, and you will never, ever, remove them. Do not be fooled by power trips. Do not fool yourself into believing that you can in any way have control over yourself or that you can make your life better at all, as you'll only be disappointed. The harder you fight it, the more painful it'll be when you are crushed, as will inevitably be the case. And yet, not fighting is simply not an option.
Conclusions:
There's still hope. I don't know why, but some masochistic drive in me keeps me believing, struggling, and refusing to give up hope. It's all a lie, of course, and we are doomed to nothing but self-contempt. You can never fully break out of yourself, and that's why we're all doomed to go around in circles till the day we die. I recognise my being fucked up, but am powerless to do anything about it.
A) Escape from oneself is the best one can hope for in this world. Philosophy is self-indulgent, all philosophers are self-indulgent, and excessive exposure to philosophy breeds nothing but harmful self-absorption.
B) The only cures for the self-absorption bred by philosophy are as follows: alcohol; drugs - not depressants; incessant immersion in the company of others, to the point where you no longer remember how to be with yourself - you have to reach the point where you feel scared of your own company, and see this as a blessing; dancing; seemingly superficial music; stop reading anything "profound" or "intense". If possible, stop reading altogethe; take up a manual/physical occupation - this helps you to forget yourself and forget thinking altogether.
C) A and B build up your confidence; they allow you to get on with things without having to make recourse to writing. You no longer need to ask yourself why it is that anyone would even bother talking to you.
D) Ultimately, you are something of a social retard, and cannot help but inevitably fall back into the same vicious loops of self-doubt and paranoia which you have only been staving off; meaning, no matter how hard you try to distance yourself, remove yourself from yourself, to have no regard and even forget yourself, you are only putting something off, and you will eventually be sucked back into yourself and your own despair like some shitty black hole. Certain fundamental insecurities, phobias and paranoias are permanent, and you will never, ever, remove them. Do not be fooled by power trips. Do not fool yourself into believing that you can in any way have control over yourself or that you can make your life better at all, as you'll only be disappointed. The harder you fight it, the more painful it'll be when you are crushed, as will inevitably be the case. And yet, not fighting is simply not an option.
Conclusions:
There's still hope. I don't know why, but some masochistic drive in me keeps me believing, struggling, and refusing to give up hope. It's all a lie, of course, and we are doomed to nothing but self-contempt. You can never fully break out of yourself, and that's why we're all doomed to go around in circles till the day we die. I recognise my being fucked up, but am powerless to do anything about it.
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