Perverse Pleasure

It’s not everyday you see people act like themselves, and usually you catch a glimpse of their true nature in moments of anger or drunkenness. I love those moments where the masks come of, the social conformities are torn off, and you see the devil within. Man made the devil, whatever desires or thoughts that lurked inside of him, he classified as perverse, unnatural and attributed them to an exterior power, in an effort to preserve a functional harmonious society, where everyone is depicted as saints.

But, in those moments of anger and drunkenness, you see what we are truly made of, you can argue that man has no true nature, that he creates himself, that could’ve been true in some distant utopian society where every one has had a perfect childhood and became an uncomplexed adult, but that doesn’t happen in our society, everyone has a scarred childhood, few people have the power to overcome it, those are the saints that walk amongst us, the rest, we act.

We reign whatever desire or thought, ill-perceived by society motivated by a desire to fit the standards, to not be rejected, but the conscious effort required to act is easily depleted, and that’s when I know that I’m not alone, it’s when people reveal the darkness inside them, it’s then that I know that we’re all hurt, it’s when they give up their facade and tell you the horrible things they think about you or someone else. It’s when they turn to violence and hate that I know we’re not smart and evolved creatures, we’re animals that took up acting classes.

We’re egoistic, hateful, sadistic savages, that’s what we are and that’s how we’ll remain. We have an insatiable desire for power, control over others, fame… We all want to be gods that stand on top of a kneeling mass of inferiors, and we will seek that desire in whatever way possible, just look at the bloodshed that makes up thousands of years of human history, all the wars, the rape, the murders, the luxury of the emperors’ palaces, the glory of the conquerors and the profane poverty mass.

It when we act as ourselves, that’s when we understand ourselves, but what comes after the understanding? A reconciliation with ourselves? Forgiveness of others? An all open civil war? I don’t know the answer, for now, I enjoy the scenes of drunk angry men and women, actually reveal themselves.

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I am tired of explaining myself to you, of course, I have never told you any of my inner thoughts directly, it was above you to ask about me and I couldn’t dare trouble you with my thoughts. I don’t know how to feel about you any more, what to feel when you cross my mind, and you do, you’re always there in the background behind every girl I see, a constant reminder that I never got a single genuine smile, a compassionate look that I never got you.

I can’t write any more, can’t express a thought in a proper sentence. The truth is I ran out of worthy thoughts, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been stuck in the same loop of misery for years, that I said all that there is to say about you. I am tired of saying that I gave up on life, and I am too much of a coward to do anything about it, and so I’ve let myself drift, carried away by every current life throws towards me, lost and not the least bit worried where I might land.

You were/are-who knows- my cause and my purpose, and I lost… I lost you and tried to forget about you, but it seems you are the cornerstone upon which a horrible, miserable, worthless character was built, destined to play forever the same buffoon that fell for a smile. An unwise character in a Greek odyssey, that is what I’ve become. How can I change my destiny? How can I exit the loop? How can I forget?

Do you ever wonder which one of your cigarettes finally did it? Would you like to know which puff was it that gave you cancer? Which vodka shot gave you liver failure? When did your sins finally caught up on what you always wanted them to do? When did your body give up on life, decided you were a lost cause and stopped cleaning up your mess?

The cigarettes aren’t that tasty and neither is the alcohol. The first you use to get back at yourself for whichever reason you have for hating this life, a slow but guaranteed suicide, because let’s face it, you’re too much of coward to end your own life, you can’t bring yourself to pull the trigger or tie the noose, or maybe you’re just waiting for something to call you back, bestow upon your life some meaning… The waiting is easier after you down a few shots, suddenly you see that life is -and this is the best word I found to describe it- stupid and you just let the time flow by or better yet drink until you lose all consciousness.

And, you wonder why do you even bother? Why do you bother writing up these words? Why do you bother waking up each day when all the days look the same? And, most importantly, why do you even bother with life?

A year Pt 2

So, you may understand that I didn’t think much of my life at that time, and I wasn’t planning on furthering the suffering for much longer. I had given up everything at that time, notably my studies, I stopped going to class, it wasn’t worth it anymore, I didn’t study on my own, I just spent the days in my room, not doing anything, watching my life go down in flames, I failed more tests than I could count, and I wasn’t the least bothered by it.

Liberated from my religious restraints, I was, at last, free to experiment. First, came the smoking, I didn’t  think much of my life, let alone be bothered if I was breathing cancer into my lungs, I wanted to die, who cares if I smoked. Then, came the alcohol, all the beer I drank trying to escape for a few hours the terrible reality that I called life.

Then, on a lovely Saturday morning, as I came out of a physics test that bored me out of my mind, I learned that my grandmother had passed away. It’s strange that I spent the majority of my life at my granny’s house, I was even raised by her and I loved her as my mother, it’s strange that you spend most of your life with someone, but you’re not with them when they die, instead you’re rotting away in some miserable university away from them. I don’t know how my grandmother died, I don’t understand how she got sick while I was away, all I know is that I wasn’t by her side when she passed away, and that is a regret I will hold all my life.

Her death was absurd, just like everything else, but it made me realize that the existence of some people can have a great impact on your life, my grandmother didn’t revolutionize science, nor did she end world hunger, all she did was do right by me and I loved her for that. That was the purpose of life, to leave a positive mark on someone’s life. Life is hard, and you can choose to give up on it if you wish, but if you choose to live on, know that there are some beautiful people like my grandmother who will make the journey bearable.

At that moment, I hated how my life had turned out to be, I hated my university, I hated the field I chose, I drifted away from my parents and I felt that I had made a mistake, and I wasn’t going to be able to recover, I wanted to give up on engineering, I wanted a second chance at something else. And, so I had a talk with my father, told him I hated myself for being stuck there. He told me, nothing in life was easy, you can’t get whatever you want,  if I didn’t like engineering, I just have to succeed in it, get a degree then do whatever I wanted. I had to force myself through something I disliked and force myself to appreciate it, because that’s the reality of life.

I forced myself to get out of my rut, during the last couple of months of this year, I can’t say I’ve achieved phenomenal results, but I can say it was during the last months that I actually sat down on a desk and studied, even if it may be too late and I may be expelled from the university, I’m glad I got to work and tried, that I conquered whatever feeling of fear or fright that came whenever I faced something that I didn’t understand and felt like an idiot.

Life is a constant effort, you give it meaning by that constant effort, whether you succeed or fail, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you tried.

A year Pt1

A year has gone by and it’s the first time I feel that something actually changed. This year has had its fair share of “firsts”, it’s the first year I tasted independence, it’s the first year outside a community I belonged to for years, it’s the first year I spend without seeing your face and it’s the first year I lost someone close.

A year ago, I received my high school diploma and had no idea what I was going to do with it. I had so many choices on what career to pursue, and I finally chose engineering. Frankly, I wasn’t too eager but I thought no matter how it turns out to be I was going to stick with it and succeed.

And, so a summer went by, full of anticipation of what was to come. Came September, I left home to the dorm room n°303, in the capital. The first two days were days of exploration, we had the school to ourselves, a whole city to ourselves and it was time we learned to be independent, and did whatever we wanted. Freedom at last!

Lessons started on a Thursday and it didn’t quite meet my expectations, the teachers were a disappointment and the courses intimidating. Then, came the homework, and I realized I didn’t understand a single word, I felt like an idiot. It was then that I started feeling the fear and the general malaise that will intensify over the course of the year.

The first two weeks were normal, I hadn’t felt any changes. It was the same life, the same thoughts, the same feelings, the same me. But, as the weeks went by, a general depression overtook me, and it seemed all the bad moments I had witnessed over the years started coming back to me, and I started evaluating everything that had ever happened to me.

You see, during high school, I had met many teachers who influenced the way I thought about life. I was a man of deep faith back then, but I had a deep inclination towards the old Greek tragedies where the heroes defied the gods, and breathed life into their creations as if they were gods… and I was introduced by one of my teachers to a thought movement led by Camus, Sartre and many philosophers that argued for the absurdity of our existence. As a religious man, I never gave the question of our existence or its purpose much thought. So, as I read “L’étranger”, “Le mythe de Sysiphe”,”L’été”…  And, attended the philosophy courses, where one openly studied the gods of the ancient and how they were created by the conscience due to a natural human fear of the unknown… I started looking, beyond my naïve religious arguments, for a purpose.

My religious beliefs started evolving from taking the literal meaning of the religious scripture to a more open belief that the text was open for interpretation. But, during the first months of this year, I found myself tearing apart the foundations of my belief, and gradually accepting it as an illusion. A God can not actually exist, he is, as is religion, a product of the fertile imagination of mankind. I had to face then, the absurdity of my existence, what is stopping me from putting an end to a life that was meaningless and unpleasant.

I had suffered all of my life of loneliness. A trend that started from when I was a child and I used to stay hours on end, on the roof of my grandmother’s house staring at the city. Later on, at school, I felt unable to connect with anyone, which resulted in a general feeling that I couldn’t be loved, that I was unworthy of it. But, you see, the only pleasure in life comes from loving and being loved in return, I loved over the course of my life but, it wasn’t reciprocated.

I thought

I thought it’d be easier to forget all about you if I weren’t to see you for a year. I thought I’d maybe meet someone new, fall in love, be happy… I didn’t think think that was too much to ask, or at least I thought your memory would slowly creep into that odd place of the brain where it was never to have any power over me. But, I saw you everywhere I looked, I heard your voice coming from every street, discerned the scent of you from every whiff of wind. I could’ve been a thousand miles away from you, and you’d still be there, wouldn’t you?

You’re that one part of me that hasn’t changed this year. I guess no one would recognize what I had become if it weren’t for that tiny piece of me that goes mad whenever it sees you, that one piece that hopes some way you are reading this, that you remember the good times we had, that you have the change of heart that will set me free, that you’ll suddenly realise you love me the same maddening way I love you, then I wouldn’t have to go on living the same damned life, for it is a damnation to love you, so painful, so haunting, so destructive.

I don’t know if you are at the root of everything that’s wrong with me or if I was already fucked up before I met you. I am a walking breathing disaster now anyway. I’m finding new ways to fuck myself deeper every day, because I’m so sick of this life, and I can’t wait for it to end, all the beer and cigarettes will hopefully make my ending closer. Why the hell did I ever love you? Why the hell am I screwing my life over for you? Why the hell didn’t you love me back when I tried for so many years?

The Three Day Quote Challenge – Day Three

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It was a bit hard to find a third quote, the previous two explained most of what we need to know on our journey on this earth. But, they didn’t focus upon the subject of love. Since, it’s the last day of the challenge, and one cannot neglect such an important factor in our live. I went on looking for a quote that raised the subject. And, Rumi finally provided me with a suitable quote.

It’s possibly the greatest emotion our fragile hearts can feel. One that sticks an ever-lasting smile upon your face, trigger a flourishing of the soul and brings soothing calmness to our minds. The disturbing reality, however, in a society desperately running behind love, lucky are those who actually find it. It’s quite sad, isn’t it? Most of us know that elusive feeling we get from love, as if the world conspires to bring us every need. Yet, it didn’t last for most of us. Now, we’re either contemplating our loneliness or in abusive relationships.

Our civilization has evolved so much during the past century, that we didn’t get enough time to cope with change. Our relationships, among other things, suffered deeply. Most of us carry deep wounds that have yet to heal. And, so we built around us these fortresses to protect ourselves from pain. We accept to live in a state of insensitivity and monotony than to expose our wounds to strangers and take a leap of faith.Why are people so afraid of love or why do they give up on it?

Just, the thought that there is someone out there waiting for me and wondering why it never worked out with anyone else, keeps me hopeful. Until the time comes for us to meet, I will try to be my best self, heal myself and make sure that I don’t push people away. Until, you’ve learned to love yourself, will people learn to love you. I don’t know who wrote, but it stuck with me ever since I read it. What do you think?