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Aphorism April


              My ego was my source of refuge and I am proud to say that it is my home. At times when crisis knocks at my doorstep, the door and the walls protect me even from the horrors of the world that budge through like a storm that challenges the house’s foundations. The more I treated it as a home, the more it grew into a castle and with it are fortifications that are meant to repel invaders from plundering. I build walls to protect what is within even if it was useless. Gold is just a rock yet people died for it, so too are thoughts. My thoughts are just machinations of my corporal self, my brain gone hay wired. Why give it importance? It will not stand the test of time and it will fade. Worst, what is its use when the world will end? There will be no one to hear them and also, even if I were to put them to ink, it will be forgotten. Far more disastrous is being misinterpreted. Maybe, we all are not meant to go beyond our lifetime. It is best for us to simply be at the moment and do not yearn for immortality i.e. a delusional future after my death.


Time is slow and often freezes when we are in pain. Pain endures while happiness is bliss. Its sting irritates and is pesky enough to endure. It teases you until we hope for death to end it. People say live in the moment, but cannot say such about pain, for it is an eternity in the moment that torments. Can I say that those who seek happiness want to meet death in the fastest way possible knowing that it makes time fly so fast? Happiness shortens time, quickens it. Is happiness the normal path to suicide? It seems that I am immortal when I am in pain and I do want to lift the curse by killing myself. The irony! It is pain that makes us live but in want of death, but happiness makes us live fast to die and in want to live more. Happiness is to death while pain is for life. We came out from our mother’s womb while she was in pain. The first emotion was expressed by a cry and shriek, the language of pain. Happiness is suicide.


              They say that truth will set us free. Free from the crowd who champions being many than being right. That freedom renders us in isolation, alone but right. Loneliness is an abysmal sensation that truth sometimes try to console. But the truth are just words, ideas and thoughts, not another person’s approval, not an embrace and not a smile. I think I can swim better if I go along the tide than to go against it. Truth cannot kiss nor hug, no warmth and no face. (I am reminded of V for Vendetta.) Since I am both flesh and blood, I need touch to tingle my skin and truth cannot give that. Truth makes me sit, makes me think and furthermore, distances my body towards a pool of floating gibberish. The truth is not partial but the crowd can. The crowd can empathize but the truth is iron cold. Sometimes, truth delivers us to loneliness and sometimes it is even better to be in a crowd that being right. Rarely do we have the best of truth and the crowd altogether.



              Man is weak to face the truth. He masks the grim reality with his wonder drug – happiness. Pain makes an eternity in a moment and we cannot deny that the world has plenty to give, that is why we need an escape, a delusion to relieve the sorry state of the angst of living. Happiness is trivial, pain and suffering is our confrontation of the world as something – a series of nothings that defies our state of calmness. It is in the staring at the abyss that we know that we exist because the abyss stares back at us. Happiness does not look back, it is all about surrendering consciousness and let things be, a state of passivity, while pain makes us actively engage through the hurdles brought by manifolds and forms of nothingness. I am weak, I need that drug, but pride tells me to face life as a man and not to evade it by temporary relief. Face the grim fact of existence. I see smiles in a psychiatric ward often.


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