Friday, May 23, 2014


He obliterated all traces of self that i possessed. Whether such sleight of hand was augmented by my own complicity is beyond me. He created a blueprint of me and convinced me it was my own. I internalized his image of me. Ever since whenever i look into the mirror the lineaments of his consciousness proliferates the specks and crannies of my mental attic while my own reflection, denied any agency of self constitution blurs and is rendered indistinct.

Occasionally i do try to recollect that i had a self before i was submerged so precipitately under his aegis. Most times though this is not conscious knowledge. Intimations, nebulous hints crop up, suffusing me with a valedictory sense of possibilities forsaken. I wreath these fragments commemoratively, creating my own amorphous mosaic of variegation to act as a bulwark against the monochromatic unvaryingness i am ineluctably forced to inhabit.

He mythologized me and i doing so robbed me of any contingent being. He embalmed me. As the myth deepened and gathered momentum my history dwindled until through a gradual and imperceptible accretion all consciousness of my ontology was entirely negated. In the entropic nothingness of annihilation a modicum of identity buttresses from the illimitable chaos of a vast indeterminate cosmos. But even such restitution is denied me.

One of the ways of knowing who you are is to identify who you are not. And so seamlessly coalesced am i to the image in the mirror that not only have i relinquished, partly collusively and partly through coercion, any remnant of who i was but the antithesis of myself, that which i am not has also been  erased. Hence my dispossession is redoubled.

It seems ironical that i can expatiate on my predicament, evince self knowledge when any knowledge of myself is now chimerical, with only a carapace, a intransigent  layer of palimpsest overlying  my now tenuous  originary self conception. And perhaps in the tenebrous emptiness of oblivion, with no sanctified being to latch on to, a requiem to my displacement is, ironically, the only certitude i can proffer. I hold on to this lack and carve, through the mediation of self knowingness, a newer telos for myself. 

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