Sunday, January 13, 2008

Why are you crying?

I'm crying for the world.

Why?

I don't know. There is so much pain... There is so much fragility, like air that wraps around our skin and unravels it from our bones, like hot air that licks our eyes blind. Oh it is so beautiful and yet I hate it.

Why are you crying?

I'm crying for myself.

Why?

I'm crying for the stench of self-pity. Look. Look at me. Look at these fat drops of tears that do nothing but show how mortal and weak I am, all rotten flesh and sinking blood.

Tell me, what is wrong?

Everything. Everything is wrong. Pleasure is merely a replacement, a temporary medicated replacement of pain, and not the complete disappearance of pain, and not a thing in itself.

Why?

Because all I can see is a dark pinhole of darkness, something as small and as shallow as I am, a narrow line to fall and drown into.

What are you going to do?

I am going to do what I am doing now- Prove how useless and worthless I am. I will stand here and I will weep for all of humanity. I will stand here, drenched in the sweat of my self-addiction and self-crucification. I am god. I am satan. I am my own heaven. I am my own hell.

Don't. Tell me, what are you going to do?

I don't know.

I want to strip you of the tragic splendour of all your words, and I want to look at your actions. I want to look at the things you have done, and not the things you talk about, or the things you want to do but haven't done. What have you done?

I have done nothing.

Is that why you are crying?

Yes. I have done nothing.

And why is that so bad a thing? What is wrong with doing nothing?

I have created nothing. I have destroyed nothing. I am nothing.

Even so, wouldn't you agree with me that you chose to do nothing? It was a choice, wasn't it?

Yes. But do we really have a choice in everything?

And that is why you are crying?

Yes. The truth is that we have no say in any matter. Everything has been decided, everything has been planned for us in our lifetime. All we can do is follow, one out of a few roads they have given us. They give us a few roads instead of just one to pretend that we have a choice to make. But in actual fact every road has been chewed over and spat out all twisted and scorched like fiery metal. And out of whatever they have chosen for us, we get to pick our miserable little fates. We have no say. We have no choices to make. The whole thing is a scam!

Perhaps we have no choice in anything. But we certainly have a chance in everything. We have a fair chance that we might make a right or better choice. Not every road is bended, not every card is cast against us. Surely you've been on a short and sweet trip down a straight and smooth road.

A chance? I don't know. Maybe it is all a cruel joke.


Are you sure?

I don't know.

What do you know?

I don't know.

What do you mean? You must know something.

I don't know! I don't know! My head is in a mess! Stop it! Am I on trial? Is this what it is?

We are always on trial. It's ok. Calm down. It's ok not to know. Nobody knows. Don't you see? Don't you get it? Nobody knows. It's ok, because nobody knows.

Is it ok? What do I do now? I'm so tired. Will you hold me?

I... I don't know. You... We, take a chance I suppose.

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