You wake up and find that you are trying to love imperfect people who have failed you and whom you yourself have failed, people who fill the you-shaped hole in them with something else or people who use you to fill the him-shaped or her-shaped absence. And then you realize it was all a dream and that your subconscious ability to lie to yourself is, for better or for worse, a powerful entity that has no reason to care about you at all. You realize a part of you doesn’t care if the rest of you lives or dies, feels happy or sad or angry or excited or all of those at once. La douleur exquise. Not only does the rest of the world not really care about you (I mean on a philosophical level) but even a part of you you can’t control doesn’t care. If there is something, inside of or outside of yourself, that you can’t control and that acts and sounds like you but is not, is that a separate being? If so, take your mind as a scalpel and surgically remove it, rip it from being, still pulsing, and stare at it as it dies in your hand, this eyeless lying tumor. Deny it and continue to love. The only thing humans can do that can’t be undone is to love.
18 Sep This entry was published on September 18, 2012 at 07:27 and is filed under Uncategorized.