I see now more clearly than ever that life is simply an endless collection of inconsequential moments spent in apathetic suffering. Man cannot stay alone for fear of excoriatingly depression, a mental illness swinging through his psyche for no reason but tumultuous regret bursting from his inner self. Instead of confronting the beautiful spirit, his inner suffering represents he recoils out of fear and yearns for the thorns of luxury. Cursed to hate his true self, Cursed to be lost for eternity and then some.
I have noticed men are truly nothing but a bundle of thoughts traversing,interconnectly through ill-conceived arbitrary destructive cycles called days, months , year and decades. He will then boldly claim he has set a routine for himself in a routine less apathetic universe, instead of confronting the utter meaningless of this he will cling to his routine. He will not spend his precious seconds suffering to create what his soul yearns for but instead will drown in his self-loathing.
But I digress, life is suffering smothered through moments of bliss until the graduating point in which we are led down the chasm called “death”. This finally offering a respite to the constant suffering we endured. I am speaking gibberish yet strangely I have never felt more alive than when writing this piece.
But I digress, life is not happiness but different forms of disappointment. For a truly happy being would be not able to fall into sadness, he would gladly suffer as he understands it’s only through occasional suffering can we achieve bliss. A truly happy man would never yield to the devil's endless onslaught to pull him into the chasms of hell. A hell of unfulfilled potential due to ignoring the call to suffering, the call to life.
But I digress, what is heaven conjured up by man but an attempt at redefining sadness to glory. For what man can safely say he loves an eternal life free from all suffering when life and suffering are interchangeable reflections of each other. A man who claims he is happy has suffered while a man who has lived a full life must have suffered to have truly lived. Thence heaven is a mirage, one concocted by a man who hates life and loves the chance to be the living dead.
But I digress, if suffering is life and life suffering then hell must simply be the ultimate expression of life. Life in hell must not be hellish but rather exhilarating, it is the one true attempt at achieving mythical happiness. Whereby overcoming eternal damnation must be the only path to true happiness. Thus we must attempt to place ourselves to survival forms of hell to achieve our potential.
So, I say to my fellow men and women rejoice!
Those who suffer are those who are truly alive. The disgusting masses who abhor suffering and attempt to escape sacrifice are the one’s who should be truly afraid. The latter have no understanding of happiness, they cannot understand happiness but rather they simply whore their breaths to the enemy of life, luxurious idle.
Why have I said all this?
Because I am often overcome with excruciating pain arriving from deep within myself. I am a tortured artist without an art. A literary genius who cannot write. A dreamer without respite. I have suffered enough, I will toss the golden shackles of mental idleness for the thorns of work. My writings, my inventions, my contempt for all things alive, my love for freedom will all be channels in which I spite the inner devil.
But I digress, and I digress and I digress.