Happiness hangs on secret hopes a strange, simmering sentimentality a delicious half-formed delusion that cannot possibly end well The dizzy, lurching, sea-sick love that has no real place in reality humoring the hazardous pleasure that will inevitably harden into pain Enjoying the act of sowing old seeds without worrying what the blossoms will be is it wasting water to plant a garden just to savor a few rare moments of sunshine?
"I used to be vegan" all smiles as they say this confident this confession has shown me that they are one of the good ones "I get it" they assure me with their eyes fixed on mine the strange sense of pride that emanates from their knowing smirk I've never quite understood why this is believed to be ingratiating I'll let you in on a little secret if you're a proud former vegan I like you less than a life-long carnist This comradery you imagine between us only exists in your delusional mind at least a non-vegan can feint ignorance most people just don't understand but you're a different breed You've seen what I've seen you've let it sink into your bones let it change your whole being then actively chosen to return to brutality exploitation, suffering, and violence All I see is the allegory of the cave Plato knew it would be hard to believe the world we've always known was all shadows this I can understand, because I once lived shrouded in the same blissful darkness But Plato didn't account for anyone knowingly turning back into the cave the frustration of seeing someone learn the truth and then throw it away in favor of comfortable illusion that's worse than never seeing the light
The wicked humor of humanity is distraction sold as a delicacy the art of always having too much power and opulence taking the place of happiness rising above the supposed stupidity of our ancestry, of all lesser beings perpetual progress opined by those who have forgotten intention productivity over purpose mistaking momentum for meaning drugged and disconnected digging deeper holes into delusion dancing frantically towards our own destruction the legacy of becoming lost
Trading Pain for Pleasure
How much pain are you willing to put up with to keep someone close to you? I’ve been asking myself this question for a long time now. Some days I feel like I would sacrifice anything just to have that special connection. Other days I wonder if it’s really worth it, if I’m just addicted to reopening old wounds in a desperate attempt to feel something again. I can never decide what would truly be best for me. Should I try to protect myself and try to give up these feelings? Or should I follow what I feel no matter how painful the outcome? Can I really trust these feelings? Or am I deluding myself?
I always feel like there are two sides of me constantly arguing with each other. My brain, my logical self says, “Move on! You are being stupid. This is pathetic. You are romanticizing the past. There is nothing but suffering to be had by clinging to a memory.” But my heart, my emotional self says, “Nothing else makes me feel like this. Nothing else makes me feel anything. That has to mean something. I don’t know what, but I can’t ignore this pull. Everything else seems grey by comparison.” My brain interrupts in protest as I try to express this ineffable feeling, “You are a literal crazy person. You are one of those creepy, stalker, weirdos. You’ve lost sight of reality.” The shame and embarrassment of this likely conclusion usually halts me in my tracks, keeps me from acting, keeps me from even pondering the question anymore.
I am so terrified that any further attempts to reach out will only reinforce this idea in the mind of this other person. Is that how they see me already? Would they be right in seeing me that way? Maybe so. For the longest time, I felt cheated and insulted by the idea of mere friendship. Now I am horrified that I turned my nose up at such a generous offer. After all that I have done, I don’t really even deserve that. And maybe because of those past mistakes, those egregious, selfish acts, I should resign myself to this bond being forever severed.
I’ve genuinely never felt closer to anyone, never been known so deeply by anyone, never cared to know anyone else so deeply in return. But perhaps this fixation, this constant clinging, is what has been preventing me from developing any other significant relationships. Then again, I always come back to the question: Is it even up to me? Am I even able to truly let this go, even if I decided I wanted to? It seems like right now, the best I can manage to do is go numb, to not think about it. In fact, just writing this all out has left me emotionally exhausted. I think it’s about time to stop for now.