Strange how it turns out [this] way.
For the past four years, I've metamorphosed. I can tell you where it started. And now I can tell you where this particular phase has stopped.
It started with catastrophy. It started with an essay on the luring and deceptively comfortable embrace of solitude. It started with the sweet lull of rose-colored ignorance being ripped away, leaving a trail of bloodied viscera wherever I looked.
I grew into my isolation. I cocooned myself within my own mind, where entry was prohibited without my permission. Where I could realize the horror of reality, the fallacy of morality, the perdition of mankind. Where I stood outside of it all, safe and secure, numb. I became impenetrable. I became a demigod, above emotions, above most of the world.
I practiced the art of disappearing. I was permanently unaffected and aloof. Surely, I thought, nothing could be more liberating than subsisting solely on your own. The peacefulness of my existence eventually seemed to scrub away any residual pain, blackened my memories, gave me a strange hope. I was happy. I was hardened. But I was alone. I was emptied. And I thought that nothing could save me. Nothing could break the veneer.
Sometimes when you aren't looking, you stumble into Fate. No matter how much free will you exercise in trying to subconsciously avoid it.
Now, I'm completely out of my realm of comfort and yet oddly comfortable. There is a continual battle waging between my hardened pessimism and my touch-and-go optimism.
Strange that I am feeling this way. It's hard for a rational mind to comprehend. And while I admit that I'm slightly scared by my reactions, I'm weirdly very calm and still feeling the peace that I have cultivated since The Day in 2004. I find myself suddenly out of my isolation, and instead of being adrift, I'm perfectly safe and secure. Another corner of my life turned, but this one was much more kinder that the last (and much more than I deserved, no doubt).
As I sit here, wondering after the complexity of the universe, I'm left with a sort of begrudging awe that as soon as I had admitted I might be ready to let perhaps a few friends a little closer to me, the world appears to seize its chance and gives me something infinitely much more interesting. I'm frightened and fascinated. And I'm left with one pervasive thought in mind:
When has everything become so suddenly and unbearably beautiful?
It started with catastrophy. It started with an essay on the luring and deceptively comfortable embrace of solitude. It started with the sweet lull of rose-colored ignorance being ripped away, leaving a trail of bloodied viscera wherever I looked.
I grew into my isolation. I cocooned myself within my own mind, where entry was prohibited without my permission. Where I could realize the horror of reality, the fallacy of morality, the perdition of mankind. Where I stood outside of it all, safe and secure, numb. I became impenetrable. I became a demigod, above emotions, above most of the world.
I practiced the art of disappearing. I was permanently unaffected and aloof. Surely, I thought, nothing could be more liberating than subsisting solely on your own. The peacefulness of my existence eventually seemed to scrub away any residual pain, blackened my memories, gave me a strange hope. I was happy. I was hardened. But I was alone. I was emptied. And I thought that nothing could save me. Nothing could break the veneer.
Sometimes when you aren't looking, you stumble into Fate. No matter how much free will you exercise in trying to subconsciously avoid it.
Now, I'm completely out of my realm of comfort and yet oddly comfortable. There is a continual battle waging between my hardened pessimism and my touch-and-go optimism.
Strange that I am feeling this way. It's hard for a rational mind to comprehend. And while I admit that I'm slightly scared by my reactions, I'm weirdly very calm and still feeling the peace that I have cultivated since The Day in 2004. I find myself suddenly out of my isolation, and instead of being adrift, I'm perfectly safe and secure. Another corner of my life turned, but this one was much more kinder that the last (and much more than I deserved, no doubt).
As I sit here, wondering after the complexity of the universe, I'm left with a sort of begrudging awe that as soon as I had admitted I might be ready to let perhaps a few friends a little closer to me, the world appears to seize its chance and gives me something infinitely much more interesting. I'm frightened and fascinated. And I'm left with one pervasive thought in mind:
When has everything become so suddenly and unbearably beautiful?