Hey fellow Steemians,
Here is somewhat of a rant I wrote a while ago. It is not meant to be a rational reflection of my thoughts. Rather a emotional outburst put into words. Although not entirely clear, I hope you can somehow relate to the frustration that comes with the effort of making sense of your own existence. Love <3
(The Mountains of Madness by Innovari - Deviantart)
A philosophers lament.
Curse of the lycanthrope, forever hungry, never satisfied.
A man with a burning hunger for knowledge, always left wanting, needing more.
A craving that turns sour, knowledge as a body becomes bigger than I am able to digest. Even if I could, it wouldn't sustain me.
How can I start to enjoy myself again, where does this frustration come from?
Do I have to believe in truth? Do I have to find truth in faith? This somehow seems paradoxical. I know I do have faith, I must, but I do not recognize it as such. Do I know that I know? Or do I know that I know that I know? How is it that I knows that it knows? Some third party? Some awareness that is part of me and I am a part of it, yet we are also separate somehow.
I know my relation with knowledge needs to be a loving one, a playfull one. It shouldn't be my complete sustenance, yet what else is there but the search for knowledge? I am like a jealous lover constricting and controlling, so afraid to be left alone. So scared to lose what I never really possesed.
Bordering on madness, swift thinking, feverish and scattered. In search of something, some certainty to hold on to, some fundament to latch onto.
I know I have to let go of this need for certainty. I can only die once. I don't have to fear letting go, because holding on gives me nothing, only pain.
Scream and rampage, invite the choas of existence in your soul and let it burn away all doubt, all second guesses. Be sure that you are unsure and vice versa.
Why the hell do I care? What does it say about me? Why is it so important to know. I cannot prevent what I cannot predict. And I cannot predict anything.
Amor fati. Let this be my mantra. Not the words but their symbolic and mystical meaning. Release! Let go! Accept! Be free you dumb fuck. Enjoy yourself without shame. Let the natural sink in. Lobotomise this unfair want, it is only vanity. That is your vice, to become the eternal image you project upon yourself. The wise sage, the knowing subject, the dog that chases his own tail and swallows himself whole.
Rather become a dog that sits in the sun and liks his own genitals once in a while. Like the cynics of the old days. Sweet blissful ignorance deliver me. Don't think.
Now I understand, I will have to destroy philosophy as a tradition. Get over yourself allready. Be honest, be sinsere. If you want to impress people become a magician or learn some other cool tricks.
You don't have to be brave because you don't have to be afraid. Walk out into the darkness and never return. Forget your name, people won't be able to summon you anymore. All sound is arbitrary it is not for you, it is because of you.
Empathically sensing all perspectives leaves me skitzofrenic. Physical dimensions are one thing, spiritual dimensions a whole other.
Are you ready for that? Honestly? Being at the centre of the vortex again? Complete death and oblitheration. Complete loss of self, yet complete gain of everything else. Seems like a bargain to me.
If I die, let me die alone. Because letting go will be too hard when loved ones are around. They have created me and will try to keep me here.
Wil the truth set me free, or imprison me? Doesn't knowledge of a thing, destroy it utterly?