Lost in a sea of gargantuan ghost reveries, my mind is afloat. Tripping once again towards the defamation of spirit, there’s a careless cautious meaning to my words. Follow your heart, they say, do as you will and you will succeed, but alas, success brings so much failure as well. There’s no shame in following that well trod route, but there’s also no purpose. Going the obvious route may work, but it pays only the salary of a scullery cook, for where there’s obstacles, there’s challenge, and where there’s challenge there’s glory, but what of this glory? What glory do I seek? Where am i? where am I going? For that matter, where have I been? Where’s the purpose? Fornicating ideals such as these penetrate the dull lifeless matter of my once active brain, crippled in intellectual sorts by an overdose of mass media mushrooms, ones whose psycho-hallucinogenic properties are destined only for failure. Today I remembered who I was, for I am but a shell of what I once was, due to a fortunate accident whose occurrence led me to differentiate between what’s past and what’s now. Remarking on the value of a digimon toy, I retorted that it was simply the plastic detritus of a modern society, a hollow purposeless creation whose sole purpose and intent is to create sales revenue for men whose goals are simply materialistic. This realization led me to slip upon, to barely edge the yard of thought whose green grass is much more healthy than my foliage’s. for I realized in that instance that this is exactly what I have become too. I too have become this, this plastic detritus of society. Here I am parading myself about, cashing in on temporary ideals and motivations that untimely lead nowhere. Here I am, a shell of my former intellectual self, dining on the finest garbage that the internet’s sewer will feed me, realizing that it’s but a matter of time until my entire life will come crashing down about my feet, that my world as I know it is but a pale reflection in a dark mirror of the self I once knew. At once I had realized that despite all arguments to the latter, self is unchanging, yet changing. I am always myself, but I am not always myself. I have died tonight. I have suffered the slings and barbs of savage butchery far too long to allow myself to degrade myself for
such a simple thing as the mass entertainment industry. This sounds like the meanderings of a fool, but for me they are deep epiphany, darling reveries from the gods, their names be praised, a light if you will, shimmering in the dark, daring me to follow, to come to safety. Shall I come to my senses in this darkness, or shall I curse it? Hopefully, time will tell that I chose the former, that I shed this inglorious existence for the intellectual victory over the dullard’s mind, over the cro magnon existence my recent choices have been leading me to. But if I do not, I will still be here, reading these books, pretending to be real, when in reality I am but the simple plastic detritus of a modern society.
For we are many, and we are legion.
metalheadmogar
anxious