Codesmith

Life, Or Something Like It
2004-02-11 20:00:20 (UTC)

Socratic Sickness

It's 244pm. Windy.

Every little bit of peace I ever get, I use to try to make
myself more in control of how I feel. Every little bit,
goes to trying to keep more control of how I feel deep
inside.

I've come to the conclusion, I am not fit for any
relationship. I'm just too damn high maintenance. I must
have someone's complete and utter attention, and without
it I start to feel less and less secure. It's easy for me
to just not form any relationships, that way I can never
get attatched in the first place. I need not mention the
irony of the situation.

Purpose. My theory is that we have no purpose. We strive
to make whatever or interpret purpose however we see fit.
It's an illussion that gives us meaning. I suppose, the
other part of me... the more optimistic part of me, ...
the more lighter part of me would argue that we might be
insignificant bits of matter in the Universe, but we have
something that others do not. ... We are conscious. The
darker part of me could never win that argument. It's
rigged from the beginning.

The darker part of me would argue that how do we know all
matter is not conscious in one form or another? What would
make us unique? To that, I am sure my optimistic side
would argue that what makes us unique is that once we are
gone, there is never another like us. Somewhere, deep
inside I know this to be true. I can feel it. And I can
prove it with a theorem.

I can't quite find the will to want to live. I keep
struggling with myself. With my feelings. I can't quite
win. I can win. But do I really want to win? Of course I
want to win! I'm just that arrogant to want to win. It's
the selfish part of me that wants to win.

Is it worth letting someone that evil live? Irony. evil
can be spelled into live. Just thought I would mention
that.

I feel myself being pumped with adrenaline. I can
physically feel it. As my mind struggles to calm the
onrush of feelings and whatever panic that has arisen from
the lack of discipline I am unable to muster.

All day I struggled. And I can't quite win. Is there a
reason why I am subjected to this? Or am I like the fool
who does not know how to twist the knob and open the door,
all the while he beats his fists wondering what cruel
prison he is made to suffer in. Prison is an illussion.

Then why can't I stop this on my own?!

I should be able to.

I can.

But at the same time I can't.

Am I even making any sense here.

I know now, what this is I feel. It's a disease. An
ancient one. Disease of the soul. And to ensure that I am
quite sane, as I write this, I will even quote the person
who discovered it. It's the disease where you accept two
contracting ideas. It's the socratic sickness.

I have two ideas, and as I struggle to win one over the
other, I find that I can't ever beat myself. It's not
possible to win against yourself. More on this later. I
need to .. calm down.




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