Hieronymo's mad againe.

[abastardspeaks]

There is a certain unequivocal madness to life that although we have the tools to decipher many facets of existence, that to understand everything would in short, be death. A death kneel to our own lives would be complete understanding, a consequence naturally. Perhaps not. The self is not the relation but the relation's relating to itself. A human being is a synthesis of the infinite and the finite, of the temporal and the eternal, of freedom and necessity. There are many philosophies, religious sects, meditations that argue that we must face ourselves in order to stop what we feel as senselessness. I cannot look back upon myself any longer. I am in limbo-a stagnant nudity in the face of my peers. An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. I like this, because I am happy to be both halves, the watcher and the watched. "Can they be brought together?" This is a practical question. Practicality is a virtue. We must get down to it. "I despise my intelligence" really means: "I cannot bear my doubts." There must be change, there must be action in order to quell the thoughts of tormented repeating musings. I have watched the clock turn for five minutes with exasperated tension, it is almost impossible to do this fully. I hate everyone and I love them unabashedly at the same time. To keep our thoughts contained, to quiet them, and not put forth the shouting of what races through our minds would only stifle our (my) progression. I am so very tired. So very tired of so many things and yet I wake with so much energy that I know not what to do with. My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me. A man stands at the graveside of his friend, throws a handful of dirt on the coffin, feels the cold April rain on his face. But he does not weep. I cannot weep any longer. He looks ahead to the day when his friend's lungs will be strong, when his friend will be out of his bed and laughing, when the two of them will drink ale together, talk. he does not weep. I do not weep when he will describe his fear of growing old and unloved and his friend will nod gently, when the rain will slide down the glass of the window. I must travel again. This time free of her, or you, and them. When I see that you've got a price tag on your body now, it is because you've been binge eating at your own birthday party. I feel sick still, a sickness that does not keep my health from deteriorating. I must find the middle, the middle will the provide a vantage point to start off from in current. I have lost much of my hearing and my vision is poor. Keep the dog far hence, that's friend to men, or with his nails he'll dig it up again!

HURRY UP PLEASE IT IS TIME

HURRY UP PLEASE IT IS TIME

HURRY UP PLEASE IT IS TIME

:::This is plagarism:::