More human than human: Strikes again!
For some bizarre reason, reading about particle accelerators and string therory is able to take my mind off of these things. Did you know that the longest linear particle accelerator in the world is the Stanford Linear Accelerator which is over 3km long! They make most Particle accelerators in a circular configuration now because the acceleration can be sustained indefinitely. Particles in the grip of a Particle Accelerator often travel within mere decimal points of the speed of light, often approaching what is known as Relativistic Velocities, where the effects of time reflect the "Time Dilation" described to ocur near the speed of light.
Thank god for that.
I'm frightened of me. This abstract "Monster" that I describe, feels so real to me. Completely in earnest ("Deadly Earnest" might be the appropriate sardonic pun) my mind feels divorced in half. One half, longs for Vengeance, it is the Beast, it is irrational. The other clings to reason, to the urge to forgive, regret but transcend, and to ultimately mature beyond.
I'm afraid that If I should compromise, sacrificing my humanity for the boon of excising this pain within me, I would not be doing it to achieve this hope. I would only perform the deed because I liked doing it.
That would be tragedy, but approprite to my immaturity. Revulsion and rage I feel now. How can I rescind what I said? Can I turn my back on it and escape it? Will it follow me?
I'm incapable of dissapointing myself, I admit, but I do not like who I am right now.
Becoming that monster, that feels like it would at least make something out of me, along with the obvious gain of removing the shard of pain in me.
But what would be the result? What happens after?
Maybe revenge is meaningless in the long run. This is a sizeable gamble, a challenging one. But it's quite probable.
All I wanted was to talk one last time. On the offchance that that might heal what was wrong with me, without any ultiriors, truly and honestly. Dead is Dead. I wanted to leave it at that as much as she. I almost can't believe that it's developed in me to this point. I sicken myself.
The alternative, holds little enticing in comparison. With little life left to live, forging one's own destiny seems so much more attainable. The rictus smile spreads across my face while it's in control again. While terse monstrous(delicious) ecstasies race through me, a primitive ganglia of primordial rage pulses with wondrous and satiating imagery: [Axe/Knife/Gun/Chain/Tape/Pecognition/Blood/Match/I hope I make you sick/Splint/String/Gauze/Telepathy/Wire/Current/Hook/Saw/Peicesgift... remains] The End.
It's over as soon as it begins. It's never complete. In both senses. It can be overcome. It can be forgotten. It can be folded up and saved for later, when I need it. When I'm in a situation that my counsciousness needs a little help from the evil side. I've felt it strongly before, to the point that it overcame me and I acted so rashly as to cause great harm, both physically and mentally. I regret that. The floridness of my language cannot even serve me here.
And yet even another part of my mind, asks: "Why do I even bother with these trains of thought when I can reason around all of them?"
The answer most likely is, that these things are as much of a vice, a tipple, as Heroin is.
Except despair. That does remain, I'm afraid, the comedown from all of the above.
The awful truth about who I am. Confronted now and again in moments of utter clarity. An eye that is clairvoyant to everything surrounding it, imbedded in a twisted frame. A monster, but a sad and pitifully misshapen one, instead of a fearsome one. Not even that, but a tableau of flaw that cannot permit room for appeal.
So what is there? Truly, once the irrational is gone, I wish to escape that pain, but not distastefully. That fate, has seemed so real, that it is real enough. Real enough for me. I want to let it go and find out what other destinies there are.
[Two songs symbolize these factions to me in my mind: "More Human Than Human - (NIN remix -Is Revenge. The other is "Dove" by Moony.]
Thank god for that.
I'm frightened of me. This abstract "Monster" that I describe, feels so real to me. Completely in earnest ("Deadly Earnest" might be the appropriate sardonic pun) my mind feels divorced in half. One half, longs for Vengeance, it is the Beast, it is irrational. The other clings to reason, to the urge to forgive, regret but transcend, and to ultimately mature beyond.
I'm afraid that If I should compromise, sacrificing my humanity for the boon of excising this pain within me, I would not be doing it to achieve this hope. I would only perform the deed because I liked doing it.
That would be tragedy, but approprite to my immaturity. Revulsion and rage I feel now. How can I rescind what I said? Can I turn my back on it and escape it? Will it follow me?
I'm incapable of dissapointing myself, I admit, but I do not like who I am right now.
Becoming that monster, that feels like it would at least make something out of me, along with the obvious gain of removing the shard of pain in me.
But what would be the result? What happens after?
Maybe revenge is meaningless in the long run. This is a sizeable gamble, a challenging one. But it's quite probable.
All I wanted was to talk one last time. On the offchance that that might heal what was wrong with me, without any ultiriors, truly and honestly. Dead is Dead. I wanted to leave it at that as much as she. I almost can't believe that it's developed in me to this point. I sicken myself.
The alternative, holds little enticing in comparison. With little life left to live, forging one's own destiny seems so much more attainable. The rictus smile spreads across my face while it's in control again. While terse monstrous(delicious) ecstasies race through me, a primitive ganglia of primordial rage pulses with wondrous and satiating imagery: [Axe/Knife/Gun/Chain/Tape/Pecognition/Blood/Match/I hope I make you sick/Splint/String/Gauze/Telepathy/Wire/Current/Hook/Saw/Peicesgift... remains] The End.
It's over as soon as it begins. It's never complete. In both senses. It can be overcome. It can be forgotten. It can be folded up and saved for later, when I need it. When I'm in a situation that my counsciousness needs a little help from the evil side. I've felt it strongly before, to the point that it overcame me and I acted so rashly as to cause great harm, both physically and mentally. I regret that. The floridness of my language cannot even serve me here.
And yet even another part of my mind, asks: "Why do I even bother with these trains of thought when I can reason around all of them?"
The answer most likely is, that these things are as much of a vice, a tipple, as Heroin is.
Except despair. That does remain, I'm afraid, the comedown from all of the above.
The awful truth about who I am. Confronted now and again in moments of utter clarity. An eye that is clairvoyant to everything surrounding it, imbedded in a twisted frame. A monster, but a sad and pitifully misshapen one, instead of a fearsome one. Not even that, but a tableau of flaw that cannot permit room for appeal.
So what is there? Truly, once the irrational is gone, I wish to escape that pain, but not distastefully. That fate, has seemed so real, that it is real enough. Real enough for me. I want to let it go and find out what other destinies there are.
[Two songs symbolize these factions to me in my mind: "More Human Than Human - (NIN remix -Is Revenge. The other is "Dove" by Moony.]