Saturday, May 24, 2014


Goodness unravels from me. Probity constitutes me. I take to gazing at the mirror and find much in what is reflected to me that is agreeable. I am a vast blankness, a primordial nothingness. Into the vast pool of my tabula rasa i inscribe the hieroglyphs of my becoming. I see an image in the mirror. The image is perfect. Therefore the mirror reflects a perfect image. Hence i am perfect.

After all, the emptiness of our ontology renders becoming unavoidable. Do i have a self, an original prelapsarian self?Or does the abasement of the fall define mankind. I'd like to asseverate that i have a noble self, a nobility the indeterminacy of the cosmos imprints in me. Onto this layer of anterior goodness i etch indelible signifiers of my own nobility. The vast reservoir of attributes are out there. I choose my own accoutrements and given the inherent desire for rightfulness i choose, invariably, the appropriate appurtenances.

So i am sheathed against the depredations of collective consciousness by the incontrovertible purity of my being. The world being the cruel place it is, misunderstandings are inevitable. Often i find myself being accused of solipsism when in fact those who direct these accusations at me evince the solipsism they accuse me of. The aforementioned depredations in a fragmented world necessitate a certain pathological proliferation of neurosis. I, with my superior knowledge, often try to tell people, particularly intransigent borderlines, that they need to watch out for their neuroses which can, with astonishing rapidity, lapse into psychosis.

I am solitary. Solitariness is ineluctable. Because of my veraciousness i tell people the truth. Partly as defense mechanism, partly as pettiness i am often told it is me who is psychologically disturbed. People insist on projecting, on seeing their own unconscious blueprints on me  Well i've read my freud and jung. I am well versed in the tenets of psychoanalysis. I understand the world, i understand myself. I don't feel bewildered or irascible when counter accused thus. My blamelessness is a given, my inherent virtuousness self evident.

Often though i do let self doubt creep in. These unbidden visitations are subterranean, nocturnal. I listen to these misgivings for do they not demonstrate my introspective streak, my thoughtfulness. Yes, my loneliness does grate on me, the number of people who enter my life and leave precipitately discomfits me but then in a world whose morality has become apocryphal such derelictions are irrefragable. There are always good people around and i will eventually find one who sees me exactly as i see myself. 

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