Romans 7:15 "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."
Human nature is such that we do not readily accept our weaknesses, we seek to compensate for it, cover it or outrightly deny it, and yet, for some intriguing reason, history is filled with inspiring people who seem to have made peace with their weaknesses.
I will not add to that list.
Like every other mortal I walk around with a facade that my character, despite my sincerest efforts, I cannot match up to. This year has had one repetitive theme for me, that all of us are carefully (not so much so in some cases) self perpetuated frauds, masks, hollow facades, baseless forms of nothingness which we portray with irresponsible confidence. And it seems that I have not been spared as an example to myself.
I don't like lying to myself, but it seems I love a peaceful sleep more. Even this post is an attempt at pacifying myself, making peace with my demons, rather than expelling them with the revulsion that they deserve. I find insight but not comfort in the words of the good book, especially the words of David when he said "My sin is constantly before me".
And I am not talking of sin in the traditional sense, but rather falling short of ideals that are entrenched in my conscience by forces unknown (and infinitely unknowable), ideals that my conscious self holds dear but lacks the discipline to live up to.
What am I talking about? Well, just that sense, which occasionally rapes your otherwise most serene moments, that you're not, even in your own eyes, all that you're cut out to be, all that you pretend you are. I say you, but I mean me.
I've had a dream, for the first time in a long time with the genre of post-apocalyptic earth. I cannot remember the details, but even in my hazy recollection, I found solace in this, the destruction of the dominion of the parasite that is man and its elimination from an otherwise harmonious existence. Concurrently, I came to the realization that it is that same parasite which I so passionately would deny my ties to that gives meaning to everything else. Following swiftly on the heels of that realization is the acceptance, alluded to at the beginning of this post, that I am immensely like every lesser mind, full of fault.
I am neither suicidal nor do I harbour actual ill will to any individual mortal. Why I must clarify this, I have no idea.
On a matter of principle, and keeping up with the facade, I will not post this today. Are you confused? If yes, don't worry, so am I. If you aren't, don't worry either, I completely understand that we all find our masks protective and reassuring.
I feel like this was meant to be poetic, but I have no urge to attend to the superficiality of poetic forms.
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