(no subject)
Long ago, we painted over the logic of our erasably meaningless existences with the fiction of the self-absorbed hungry ego. We've since lacquered on the pursuit of humility, of denying the self for the loving approval of the tribe. Competing narratives, conflicting behaviours all around: our society simultaneously rewards the behaviour of the churlish and the egos of the humble.
At this tipping point, it becomes worthwhile to consider take this identity sculpted to believe in one narrative, and throw it into the fire. What humble gave me is a weak laissez-faire disposition, an unwillingness to face choice and consequence, and the sad, sad realization that nothing matters because nothing that the rest of this society considers important can destroy me.
If I knew what I stood for. But I don't.
At this tipping point, it becomes worthwhile to consider take this identity sculpted to believe in one narrative, and throw it into the fire. What humble gave me is a weak laissez-faire disposition, an unwillingness to face choice and consequence, and the sad, sad realization that nothing matters because nothing that the rest of this society considers important can destroy me.
If I knew what I stood for. But I don't.