There Is No Truth Out There...

... Only convenient versions of it.



Can anything we say or write fit with such verbs as ‘to be’? To be, is, was, will be... The verb alludes to certainties or facts. I am me, I am a girl, I am a person, I am a grown-up... The sky is blue, the clouds are white, the house is big, the dog is barking, the cat is jumping, the weather is foul, etc... I wonder if all these shouldn’t in fact be replaced by a verb that would reflect our limited perception of reality.

Am I, or do I actually only seem to be?

It seems that I is me, and it seems that I is a girl, because of what the majority would say, what they all came to agree on as a crowd - or majority. The sky seems blue, because my eyes tell me that it resembles most the colour we all can see and agree to call ‘blue’. The grass seems green for the same reason, yet a horse could tell you it is red if it could talk (and that's according to the latest scientific research).

There are no certainties, only man-made agreements based on what we see, hear, smell, touch, taste and generally sense or experience in common as a species.
We know that senses are misleading. We smell a certain scent with our limited ability to smell, and a dog would smell something different because his sense of smell is so much more developed. We see the bricks that made up the house, but if our vision was stronger to a certain point, we wouldn’t see the bricks as such, we would see the particles and atoms that make up those bricks that make up that house. Reality would then look quite different at least in appearance.

I wonder where we are heading as a society. It frightens me no end, not because I just happen to see the worst in all technological advances, but because there is not enough time spent on dwelling on consequences. We move on according to our findings, and in that sense we cease to be the masters of our advances. We lose ourselves in a race against time, in a race that has no defined finishing line. Where do you stop, then? And would stopping ever matter, or only the pursuit of knowing more about the world and its neighbour? And can you really understand the world if you haven’t spent the time to know yourself?

Could you say that a ball is a ball if you had never seen one before? What if one explained to you that a ball in round and red or blue and that it bounces when you throw it? Would you then know what a ball is? Well, would you?

If you knew that a ball is round and red or blue and that it bounces when you throw it, you would be able to distinguish such an objects among others. You could point a finger at it and say “ball!”, but would you know what it is, or what it is for intrinsically? Chances are that even if you fail to understand what it is actually meant to do, you would give it your own purpose in mind. You might decide that it is an object to play with, to throw against a wall and play. You could also decide that it is a present from God fallen from the sky. Or a pretty ornament. Its purpose becomes a man-made concept, and it seems that beyond that silly example, most things around us are given the same treatment more or less.

It matters not that meaning eludes us, for we can always give our own meaning to everything.

In a world full of man-made beliefs, I ask one how it can ever be possible to find true meaning.
Are we doomed to only experience reality according to what people agree to perceive as reality, or is there a way beyond that?

Of course, the ball example is flawed in the sense that man invented such an object with some pre-defined purpose in mind. In a way, the guy who created that ball must have wanted to create it so he could play football with it, for instance. But then, if that purpose in mind isn’t explained to others, how are others supposed to know what that ball’s purpose is? They will either remain perplexed, or they will grant it a whole new meaning, hence purpose.

If we look at the advances in sciences, even, we see that men are now more capable than ever to understand the mechanics of a great deal of things that appeared a mystery to us not so long ago.


Whereas one might have once thought that the heart was merely an organ holding all the romantic feelings of the person, we now know that it is one of the main organs necessary to survival, that it acts like a pump to make the blood flow and all that. In that sense, sciences have managed to go beyond imaginary or limited means of understanding. They can tell you that the purpose of the heart is to act as a pump, for instance, and they could now tell you the purpose of various things with quite a lot of certainty.

What disturbs me is the illusionist base on which everything, absolutely everything, rests. We perceive reality in a limited way, in so far as we perceive it as a species and agree together on that vision or perception. What makes sense as purpose in our minds only happens to fit in with our perception. It might well be that the heart’s true purpose is quite different in truth, but we can only perceive a certain purpose for it according to our own limited perception of reality.

I am such a product of my own society, aren’t I? I look for true meaning and reality because I happen to be immersed in more illusions than ever. Removed too far from nature, one might begin a journey back to simplicity, only for the mind to find a remnant of a sound base on which to grow understanding away from too many false assumptions and mistaken conclusions.
In that sense, I am reluctant to put too much faith on granted knowledge, the one that allows a person to skip steps to understand only a certain portion of knowledge.

For instance, in my case, knowing that the Earth revolves around the sun is not true knowledge, it is granted knowledge. I do not know all the theories, calculations or means to get to that ‘fact’. I am merely told that it is so. Because it is a ‘fact’ most will agree on, it must be true, and therefore I ‘know’ that the Earth revolves around the sun. I keep in mind the historical factor that the person who one day told the world that ‘truth’ or discovery was put to death because back then people weren’t ready to accept that the Earth wasn’t in fact at the centre of the universe, or that it wasn’t flat. This mere historical event shows the crucial role social agreement plays in the way we shape our reality.

If anything, granted knowledge is to me nothing more than a risky potential shortcut to mistake. I would rather take the risk of wasting time doubting what is actually true as part of granted knowledge, than assume without truly knowing.

It matters not that in the end I should know very little, because as I wrote it before, I hope that what I do come to understand will at least be as close to true knowledge as humanly possible.
In an ideal world, there would be no mere scientists, there would only be philosophers who happen to be scientists.

There is no truth out there, only convenient versions of it.

substitute for perfection?

I never wondered what it is I like about art, what always seems to draw me in beyond the positive feeling I conclude it gives me. 

Why do people paint; why do we compose, play or listen to music; why do we write stories? It all comes down to the root of expression, what is conveyed through any form of art. Some paint to show a sublime moment in time (ie. Impressionism) or to capture a vague sense of perfected light, a body, a scene. Some paint to depict pain, misery, war and despair (think Picasso) as though they could do nothing but become witnesses of their times. Others write the most enchanting stories, the kind that will seem to set your mind free into the endless realm of imagination. Stories will be romance, science-fiction, even a thriller or a classic...But what is the aim? Beyond the prison of reality and a sense of helplessness -human limitation-stories offer an escape for the mind in the hope of finding a sense of peace or freedom, fulfillment. Some write to transcend the reality of having only one life and with the power of their imagination they can live so many and share them with others. All forms of art, it seems, derive primarily from a desire or need to escape what cannot physically be escaped, a desire or need to create a window that will reflect either the illusion of a voice or perfection. A voice, whose owner-the artist- is not able to use any other way for he finds himself prisoner of his individual condition; a perfection, for who has never dreamt of catching but a glimpse of what makes perfection or sublimity? In a perfect world made of perfect minds the need for art would be cancelled for once such a perfected world is achieved the perfection will be found within, therefore making all forms of art obsolete. Escapes and external substitutes would no longer be required.

Until then, though, there is art...

On religion and a theorem of thoughts

I cannot rely on the idea of a God for it would always be stained by conditioned beliefs. Even if there really was a God then we would know nothing about it or what it truly entails. The concept is so far removed from our reach that it is pointless to try and comprehend something so hypothetically infinite and grand when we can’t even comprehend our own selves.

Proportions, probabilities and the laws of physics, the three Ps that made the world. If one could get to the roots of all three and from the source work their way up to the results then many answers would be unveiled. But to get to the source, ah! Many scientists got close enough, yet not quite. They were also blinded, just like the rest of the world, by seductive answers or discoveries, mistaking science, which is a tool to knowledge, for knowledge itself. They also care very little about the fact that what can be done shouldn’t necessarily be done. But what do I know? Demanding ethics is probably too much to ask and always has been. However, using the word has always seemed so pretty and fluffy for a majority. Let’s face it, notions and values are devoid of deep understanding and what they are to most of us are mere blanket words, empty shells of a word that sounds like something right yet we just don’t know why they sound so pretty to the ear or the eye. That in itself is enough to make them what they are to us today: empty words filled with ideals.

Note that I could never deny the existence of something higher; I mean, why not? It’s just nothing to do with the way we’ve pictured it so far. More importantly, I’m not about to try and find out as it would go completely against my theory that unless I can truly comprehend my self in outward circles (starting from my own self, perception, reality, substance...working my way from that base and moving up to the next level which would probably be my immediate surroundings; “thy neighbour” and so on) until I eventually get to the top through logical reasoning and true understanding, enlightenment. 

Of course, the likelihood of ever getting to that all-understanding awareness is tiny if not impossible in a lifetime but then to me it only means that we just aren’t meant to dwell on bigger questions until we can find ways to work our way up. Perhaps a chain of philosophies through times is the key so that the answer can eventually be found along the spectrum of time. Why bother with my theory? Because to me it seems the only way to minimise error and avoid ending up with even more supositions. Just like algebra or quantitative methods problems, if you start off from a flawed base then the proportion of error only keeps growing as you carry on trying to resolve the problem- perhaps I should say the margin for error? It is a fundamental mathematical reality.

Make-believe and reality as we see fit

I’ve written it before, I shall write it once more: money is the poison to men’s heart, which in turn will wither to a dead pulp. It will be the cause of destruction all around and for what? For a fistful of dollars. The so-called God, the one a lot of people believe in, is given false sweet names and a nicely tailored fairytale when it is but a mere reflection of their greed. God as we ‘know’ it is an ever adaptable, ever-changing excuse to worship what sounds shameful to the ear: bling-bling, money, shiny pretty things. We don’t have a God as the men of religion proclaim, it’s all a sham. What you believe in is a very intricate propaganda machine meant to control people. If there was a God somewhere, we wouldn’t have the first idea what or who it is. We simply could not comprehend even a glimpse of such a higher subject. The rest is part of a man-made fabrication. Delusions....

I was thinking about the French Revolution the other day. It was such a strong statement, a step towards the ideal of equality. “Liberte, Fraternite, egality.”

Chopping the aristocracy’s head off was a sublime symbol of revolt among the people but the rest that ensued soon became a farce. Perhaps it was planned as a farce from the start. If you think about it...Are we really free today? It sure feels like we have more freedom than we had a century ago...Or have we? I’m tempted to think that only the settings and ways of exploiting people have changed. Why? 

The ideals of the French Revolution were grand, the direction taken flawed from the start. The idealist goal was to give power to the people but it was done so carelessly and without enough thorough reasoning that in the end people chopped the royalty’s head off only to give power back to the Bourgeoisie on a silver plate. The people never got that power, they only think they did, but that again was an illusion. The only difference between aristocracy and the Bourgeoisie is that the former’s glory and power were given from birth while the latter’s stem from the new plague: money. So the surroundings, the settings have, indeed, changed, but not the problems themselves. They only morphed from one issue to another variant of it. We merely replaced crownies with more corrupted people, only the new ones had less money perhaps to start with. We were taken for a ride by the ‘bourgeoisie’. 

We never change the core of human problems, we keep interchanging players and unless the corrupt ones can be weeded out there will never be a better society, something that actually stands a chance to be fairer than ever before. 

I have to meet Tom for some political meeting- a socialist one. I’m open to ideas but I’m lazy. And I’m far too wary of politics feel even remotely excited. Tom, on the other hand, is overtly dedicated and holds strong views. He’s a doer. I’m more of a thinker who thinks too much and over-analyses the most trivial things. Where I could spend eternity pondering, he would be doing something. Neither quality is self-sufficient or intrinsically good in itself. It would be the merging of both into one person that would allow the latter to achieve better results. A good balance of structured thinking combined with the energy and strive of morphing thoughts into concrete actions. The ultimate well-rounded individual with the key to greatness for a society. Of course there are such people in the world, I have no doubt about that. What often lacks is something that could almost be compared to the idea of soul to a person: a dash of good will or profound integrity. Now if one was to present all three qualities -logics, strive and good will- we would have on our hands the true politician. Life is such that the very first quality to wither in its bud is integrity and we’re left with a strive turning into ambition and logics, well, comes and goes like the wind. Knowing this, how could I not be disappointed from the start?

I love early mornings, especially at dawn, when the fine line between darkness and renewed light emerges beyond the ocean of bricks and iron. There’s simply such a wealth of colours and subtle gradations that it seems to swell and enflame my heart at once. But it never lasts long and before you know it, at the mere blink of an eye, daylight suddenly takes over.

Now aged 25, I must say that the odds are rather stacked against me. I’ve grown into my own person- whatever that means, really- with such fierce independence and rejection of social expectations that I don’t see how I could ever change. The outlook I have on life might not be that different from other people, even though it is tempting to assume it is, but it has a stronger effect on me, on the way I feel or react to the things I see or think that I can see. 

Whereas the mind fights relentlessly toward the glimmer of light and knowledge the person slowly dies away, torn between the realms of raison and folly. Just as a body will decay, so will what I can only define as the soul for lack of better words to refer to that feeling part of the person. Perhaps, as you grow older, so does that part as though it were slowly pulled away from the body, dispersed in an unfathomable Netherworld. How funny to think that what really makes a person is in fact far removed from reality. If one was to truly define a living thing in particular, according to the form it remains as for the longest period of time, then we would have to talk in terms of nothingness and memories where the latter represents the highest state of existence. Taking the notion of time as a major factor in the attempt to define what existence is or represents, what the true substance of a person is in time, then it is nothing or a mere memory. Thus in the great temporal spectrum people are more often than not non-existent for they spend more time as nothing or mere memories than they do alive and concrete.

Time is a factor in our notion of reality. Reality is an abstract notion prone to the whims of ever-passing time. We, as people, don’t give or shape reality, time does. Only such an infinite spectrum can give the notion of reality consistancy by being the active element, the steady running line from point A (as far back as possible) to point B (as far as that line can run). On the other hand people are merely passive vectors scattered along that line and therefore they can only have glimpses of such reality which they do not create by existing for it would keep changing as there’re people.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, honestly. It seems to make sense in my head and yet the proper words fail me. You can understand a lot of things by instinct but only the process of learning can morphe intrinsec understanding or knowledge into concrete reasoning using the proper words. 

Thoughts on a cold Thursday morning and the world

Every so often you wonder how certain people get to certain positions or jobs . You wonder how they manage to get where only the few selected best are meant to be when they obviously have nothing much to offer. Every now and then you realise that a member of their family knew someone who knew someone... Even better: they have parents who are already recognised for whatever it is they do. Others get to the top so quickly it can be quite dizzying. Then you realise that many have sold their integrity as one would their worthless possessions in a market. And then you wonder how come so many people with so little skills or suitability to the job ever got to where they are. 

Actors are a good example on how pointless inbred “talent” is imposed as though it was a God given right. Hence you can see how many of already famous artists’offsprings suddenly pop out in the limelight no matter how talentless those children prove to be. That’s life, I suppose. However, faced with the facts one can only come to realise how much harder the struggle for a better life already shapes itself from the start: the starting line is already tipped in favour of a category of people and the rest must fight so much harder no matter how naturally more deserving they might actually be.

It can be a good thing, in a way, for it pushes you to better yourself all the time and you are less likely to take anything for granted. But that’s only if you’re able to learn from past experiences otherwise bitterness and envy can take over your better side. Or you can let yourself be corrupted and pretty much lose your own self just like the rest.

I can’t help but think in matters of fairness. There is a flag in my head flashing painfully every time something unfair occurs. It is far too idealistic and indeed probably naive to think that our world could ever be based on something more than relative fairness whose degree relies on luck and social position. Universality and equality might share differing meanings but they both share the same burden: inadequacy in terms of numbers. The fact that people can think for themselves AND feel means that notions such as universality, equality and peace can only remain distant ideals. There will always be at least one person too selfish to keep their wants in check and that will always be enough to spread to others like a gangrene. Thus people are as much prisoners to the laws of probabilities than any other object or number.

On writing and other things

The story to tell comes first and is all about inspiration, imagination and ideas. You have to find something to write about first, don’t you? Once you get an idea that stage is over and it would almost seem as the most trivial part of writing a story. However the truth is that it is one of the most volatile stages and one can spend years waiting for that idea to dawn on them. I should know. Once you get past that stage comes the physical side of things: the process of actually writing the story. It’s the most enjoyable part as long as you don’t get stuck at some point for whatever reason.

That’s when you escape into that other world and you get to know your characters as you shape them along the way. Sometimes they surprise you in the way they grow and they end up quite different than you intended. You just never know for sure. And then there’s the re-writing stage, filling the gaps, mending the holes, adding, editing... I don’t like it much, to be honest. It confuses me more than anything but the fact that you have to really think about every little thing means that what you change will be more thoughtful and hopefully better than before. So, really, writing is very much like painting. You can be rather liberal in the way you apply the paint on that canvas, using as much paint as you wish and splatter generous amounts of what will serve as a base, but once you’re done with the foundations the painting process becomes more and more intricate and precise until the final touch which requires a steady hand.

 I’m not that far from that last stage, although I’m aware of the style issue. I try to keep in mind the sound advise of showing rather than telling per se... I shouldn’t write that one is angry when I can avoid it, but use gesture or facial expressions or actions to show that one is angry...It is easier said than done, for me anyway. And then I need to stop taking my ‘reader’ for a dumbass...That is to say I keep explaning things in too much detail, as though whoever might ever read my story wouldn’t have the brains to understand... I think such difficulties stem from the fact that I’m my own editor and therefore I find it very hard to be objective enough to spot the errors. But then I don’t have the luxury of friends and I have noone I could ask to read the story... And it’s quite a brick to read, I can tell you. So... If I do ever manage to finish it completely whatever mistakes or clumsiness there are left should be judged with a hint of clemency since I would have had no second opinion whatsoever. That is also why I can never be sure that what I’m writing isn’t utter rubbish. But hey, I don’t seem able not to write so...

Mum said that once your mind is free, once you can truly think for yourself and analyse what is being said or shown then you find peace of mind no matter what happens. If she is able to see beyond the shams and illusions of our reality, especially through the medium of society, then it would explain why all the setbacks in her life have become a well of strength from which she draws even more stamina to keep going...

I’m not that courageous. I need to strike a balance between a free mind, one that has freed itself from comforting yet deluded beliefs and preconceptions, and my social self, the one that has been so brainwashed and conditioned that it seems intent to clash with my thoughts all the time. I’m a coward. I was going to say a mental coward but that would be the wrong choice of words here. It’s simply that one part of me longs for truth and understanding of myself and what is around that self, but the other half isn’t strong enough to deal with what such truth, the undiluted version of it, entails for the rest of your life when you can no longer ignore the harsh fact that there is only you, a biological entity born to die and what you do in-between is up to you- and the sudden understanding that the only true entities that can give you credit or adknowledge your work, even your basic existence, are the people around you, all the members of your species... I suppose it gives me a lesser pleasure to know that there is no higher meaning to what I write than the expression of a passion, perhaps a talent I have. The only ones who can give it a deeper sense or importance are mere mortals who may well choose to ignore it. I suppose what I’m trying to say, albeit clumsily, is that now I can see that there is no higher power, no mysteriously powerful God watching over me and that everything I do or do not do for that matter is up to me only. We are lucky in so far as we have the faculty to think logically and therefore we can give to existence the meaning or purpose we wish to give it and in that we should strive to find solace. I want my life to be more fruitful than it would be biologically. I don’t want to simply reproduce, find love, get a house in the suburbs etc... I want to write and understand as many things as I humanly can. 

The only strive one can rely on- and that is, to me, the most disapointing side of the affair- is that other people will aknowledge your work, for one single individual needs the input of others in order to instill meaning into whatever one does. If I were the only human being on Earth, for instance, what strive would there be for me to write anything at all? The need to write stems from the hope that you will be able to share your work or discovery with others, I should think. When I was still blind enough I used to ignore that fact and imagined that somehow I was at least writing for some higher entity or that the latter was tilting me in such direction. That was a deluded belief- a safe idea that kept me from confronting the basic truth of it all: everything has meaning in so far as there is another person to share it with. And then you look around and you realise that most people aren’t that bothered by what you have to say or want to show them. Who could blame them? I’d react the same way in their shoes unless what one has to show or say is in fact truly mind-blowing. The idea of religion was greatly appealing for it meant that you could overlook that harsh fact of life and remain in the comfort zone of conveniant beliefs. Now there’s only me and my choice of what I’ll do of that biological miracle that is my very existence. It is also at the core of human discord.

09/06/08

There is a heavy burden to carry when one is able to see the truth for what it is. It’s also a tiring exercise most of the time and I have seen but mere glimpses of reality in its truthfulness, without the intricate layers of illusion and lies covering it. I don’t like what I’ve seen so far; in fact, I suspect that it would be far more agreable to ignore what lies beyond the things we see, what we think or what we falsly take for knowledge. I wonder: am I going against nature itself if one is to look at this exercise as more of an exception compared to what a majority of other individuals would do or am I in fact becoming more human for trying to develop the one thing that differenciate us so much from any other creatures- our faculty to think coherently and logically?

I shared my slight illumination of yesterday with my mother and, surprisingly enough, she understood what I was trying to say. She was amazed that I had come to understand certain things only now and that’s when I realised part of why she was the way she was. If anything, my quest isn’t such a random fancy I woke up with out of the blue but rather a predisposition either inherited from her or merely conditioned by my living with her all my life. Either way she must play an important role in the manner my thoughts are shaped.

I can no longer think without almost picturing lines and geometry within my own mind as though everything- absolutely everything- stemed from a logical base which you can hope to reach if only you can follow the threads often buried in messy knots. The game of following logical threads that lead to a deeper meaning of a notion or theory appeals greatly to me and although it makes perfect natural sense in my mind I fear that it would be almost impossible to explain how much of a joy it is for me.

The downside of logics, as I’ve felt before, is that it is one of the most ruthless tools for it will only show you bare truth removed from any other niceness we tend to wrap it under. It seems we have this need to dilute reality, especially what is simply the truth, in order to manage existence. It appears much akin to a necessary coping mechanism we use without even noticing most of the time but there are people who have perfected the art of masking truths so well that others cannot even start to look for the real thing even if they ever wanted to. It is slowly dawning on me that I might not be cut out for the truth; I’m just not strong enough as a person to carry such a burden, knowing that it means I have to chip away at the safe haven ignorance provides. Ignorance or indifference, for that matter. There are many who, far from being ignorant or lacking the skills to see beyond the shams, would rather remain indifferent. But then I’m only going to be alive once and I’ll only have that brain for a given time and what a waste it would be not to try everything I humanly can to uncover its secrets or the power it wields from within. Give me a pointless quest anytime as a substitute to the mere acceptance of what a person ought to be according to a majority that is ignorant enough to follow the pack blindly without questions.

What frightens me most is the leap between the relatively safe comfort of beliefs and man-made ideals which, I realise now, is more or less akin to endoctrination, and that of bare reality, where one can see that there is only the person and what that person chooses to do. Yes, I suppose what bothers me is mostly that from now on I can no longer delude myself into projecting a God in the empty skies or give supernatural meaning to anything I simply do not comprehend. The concept of a superman is very much in line with logics and man can only hope to achieve greatness and true self-reliance if he can shed away the weight of illusions behind which he hides. Having said that, and although I seem to agree with such a concept, it doesn’t do much to quench my inner fears of having to face a life where there is nothing else but me and the people around me. And logics. Out goes magic, and heavens, and hells and other lullabies created to either sooth the mind or as a means of control over the masses. Illusions and beliefs have been so deeply engrained in me that not only was it a monstrous hurdle to shed a big chunk away from my brain but it also leaves me with the conscience that what I am left with might well be glimpses of true knowledge but it doesn’t change the fact that such true knowledge is far less appealing to me than candyfloss shams I was used to for so long. It is worth it, no doubt about that, of course, but one must be prepared for a life of sober lucidity with no coming back to the safety of illusions...

If there is no such thing as a soul in a religious light then there must be at least two different parts that make up a person. I have been able to distinguish the one I define as the brain, the clockwork side of man, where logics and abilities lie. It is, I think, the most reliable part of us for it relies solely on logics and reaon. But then I have difficulties identifying the other part, the one we tend to listen to more readily and which is often the cause of our mishaps. If I am to follow that thread for lack of any better or clearer one, I would say that it is in fact the part we often call the soul, the heart or spirit. I tend to think that this other side is closer to what we call our personality or social self. The one that feels. Thus, I like picturing one side as an intricate clockwork, a living machine, whereas the other is flimsier, made up of social conditioning and experience and therefore it would make sense that the latter would be so keen to nurture prejudices, grudges but also attachment and preferences. I would call it the personality, which comprises feelings and social projection as opposed to the brain, or biological side, which, although there must be some degree of conditioning - the learning process, for instance- is better equipped to break away from such conditioning. I would also go as far as claiming from personal experience this time that it is man’s most reliable sidekick. The other side is, by its very nature, prone to bias and fluctuations and therefore more encline to follow changing currents of all sorts. Pretty useless when one is trying to see beyond appaearances, for instance.

Void is chaos

Void is chaos. Chaos is a blurred line between control and delusions. Delusions are a first step leading right back into that giant gap within the mind. Welcome to nothingness.

08/06/08

I’m afraid. I’m scared, terrified. Everything around me has taken the colours of blood, pain and evil murmurs. I am still me and yet my thoughts have lost grip of their coherence. I have no control left over what I feel or ought to feel and the same ideas, same thought patterns keep dancing before my eyes, no matter how hard I try to chase them away.

It’s a slow procession of illogical beliefs which have taken over my better judgement, and the more I fight against those wild elements, those figments of non-sense, the worse they seem to get. It is a very strange thing that is happening. I am very aware of those alien thoughts and while I remain the mistress of my self I can no longer prevent what can only be called obssessions. Obsessive thoughts that lead straight to imbalance. These pages will have no sense, I’m afraid, for they are my only means to reject such ideas away from my head.

Paranoia is also starting to overwhelm me and I am afraid of everything around and within me. And those thoughts won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They’re very much my own thoughts; I am the one formulating them in my head. There are no outside voice or anything of the sort: it is me. What makes no sense to me is that I just cannot think of anything else and that scares the hell out of me. I had to stop writing as though I knew what I was doing because I fear everything I thought I understood merely stemed from obseesive patterns of thought. I thought my mind was free but it is in fact held in a cage and it can do nothing but turn like a beast prisoner of its own iron will.

Nothing much makes sense these days. I look out the window and see the shades of sky, from mournful greys to incandescent molten gold, and I see the world contained in one single tear falling from above, crashing onto the frozen ground and scattering its precious power.

I have no desires, no drive to do anything. I haven’t washed in days. My hair is greazy, my appearance foul. I wish it was a simple matter of snapping out of it all. But it isn’t, I’ve tried.

I feel like the devil is out to get me, I feel possessed against my better judgement. Can’t you see? I am trying so hard to rationalise what makes no sense in my head... I’ve lost it completely, haven’t I?

They say that if you were losing your mind you wouldn’t even know you had. I take solace in that only, yet I still cannot explain what is happening. If I am simply being silly, then why can’t I snap out of it?

For the second night in a row I felt scared as I went to bed and stared at the things around me, almost expecting- again, against my better judgement still present in one side of my head- something to happen. Religious beliefs have taken residence in my head, too. I want them out of there but they won’t buldge. It’s been months now. I made the mistake of sharing such crazed thoughts with mum and since then it has felt like I have somehow released a demon out of its cage. I made it all more real than it ever had been. I am afraid that the sound part of my brain might be losing power to the degenerate side... I can sense the fine line between the way I feel now and how easily I could slip further away from rationality if that happened.

I think I am evil and that I should die. It’s the only way to make everything stop. There is no other way. I should end it all before it’s too late. Before I lose it completely and can no longer distinguish reality from fantasy. Before the sound part remaining let go and I am left with no more logics or power to rationalise my thoughts and actions. I want to keep away from anything remotely religious for fear that it will only exacerbate my delusions. I need help. Yet every single person arond me believes that I am fine. they’re obviously not living in my head 24/7. I want out of that head just for a few days, even a minute. I want it to shut up for a moment, just a moment... I need rest.

I think the whole world is set against me and that the devil is trying to destroy me. Then there is my sound presence of mind that keeps telling me that this makes no sense whatsoever. First, what is so special about my person that the whole world would tire itself against me, and why would the devil, which is merely a metaphore for all things bad, go after me, the pathetic drop in the ocean?

I try to rationalise those crazy ideas and although I can see how illogical they are I can’t get them out of my head. That is my problem. No amount of rationaliation seems to be enough... Thus I am left scared and ambushed by my own self. I had so many things to write, such nice stories dear to my heart but how can I write when all this is happening in my head?

I cannot not believe in God, either. I keep agreeing with all those people who find logical arguments against its existence and yet I keep believing. Is that simply a glimpse of how powerful human conditioning can be? Blind faith that can never be erradicated... I am left thinking that perhaps I should destroy everything religious around me. There are pictures of Christ above the door and I find myself thinking that I should burn them, that it would liberate me. It’s a very appealing idea right now. Then I get that thought that if I did just that I would be giving in to what the devil wants me to do. So I should resist the urge. But how long can I resist when I feel so obsessed? I want to go to church, not to mass, but simply walk inside one and drop on my knees. But I’m afraid that it is all in my head and going there won’t change a damn thing. Worse, still, I would end up even more obsessed. It’s all my cousin’s fault and only now do I realise that mum was right all along. She had advised me not to go, warning me that every time she saw members of her family something bad happened to her. I didn’t listen and she said those things and now those things won’t leave me in peace. I need to snap out of it. If I could, though, I wouldn’t be writing this. I am doomed. Cursed. DOOMED.

Suite a 10.37am: Perhaps what is really happening to me is far removed from insanity and merely the painful stage of discovery that leads one to Enlightenment or Knowledge. I’ve had the logical understanding dawn on me slowly which is that one is to depart from comforting, man-made beliefs if they are to see beyond illusions, toward the wondrous fields of reason. Where men are strong enough to believe in themselves without the need of religious cruches. Where men can let go of fables and tales, hints of ‘deraison’ that feed the need for supernatural explanations whenever something lacks clarity or basic knowledge. The fact that I must let go of everything I thought I knew or took for granted is eating at the very core of my person and without the shams enveloping me like a feel-safe cocoon there is only me left with the rather cold and distant comfort of my brain as sole companion in my quest. My conditioned being finds itself threatened and therefore every last remnant of conditioned beliefs are heightened to a degree that feels close to insanity. My conditioned self is the one fighting against the process I put in motion. It is hanging on so hard and entering in such a violent conflict within me that I feel too overwhelmed not to be depressed. But my depression is my inability so far to process too deep a sense or feel of others’pain and what I can see is going wrong around me. Unless I can find a way or ways to reconcile every discovery I make for myself with the ability to cope or shoulder the weight of such discoveries I will not make it very far and will end up consumed by helplessness. I must find a way to put everything into persepective so that I can focus on the quest itself- not the idea of changing anything for I would need to reach destination before even attempting to venture solutions. In this I suddenly find solace again. It is shaky and weak and I could lose sight of this thread fairly easily, still... But if I could just focus enough!

Nobody said it was going to be easy to let go of everything you ever thought you knew... It is in fact more painful than physical distress. I might be playing a dangerous game with my own self but what else could life be about, honestly? There is only this life and I will have the rest of eternity or a black hole of endless sleep where nothing ever exists again to get my peace of mind. This existence will only last years against a backdrop of nothingness. Why should I be worried? Why shouldn’t I gamble my very sanity if there is nothing better to do? If living a blind life according to the rules of biology and man-made ethos morphed into a worldwide propaganda called Religion isn’t something I can do even if I wanted to, then I will go else where and wander till I drop. I must first be able to deal with the isolation, solitude and sense of weirdness my quest is sure to entail. If I fail to find a balance, to reach some sort of acceptance as to the concequences then I’m afraid my quest will be little more than a short trip to ‘derision’. 

All those thoughts, the religious obsessions...They’re still in my head but they are in fact the expression of the threatened conditioned part of me emerging violently as I attempt to break away from all that I do not know as true knowledge. I found the key! I FOUND THE KEY. Now that I understand why I’ve suddenly become so obsessed with beliefs that were in fact burried deep into the core of what make up my social persona I can focus on finding a balance or a way to make peace with it to resume my journey.

I am no evil entity, nor am I a devilish spawn, but my uncanny sensitivity makes me so aware of the ills around me that it morphes the compationate side into depression, the exacerbated state of helplessness one plunges into when they can see but cannot act.

Perhaps I am only turning in circles in vain, focusing on futile things everybody already knows about but they will be the futile things I come to understand myself, beyond the superficial sense that one understands even the simplest concept. I will no longer call knowledge what was handed to me unless I have made the effort to go through the steps that lead to that particular knowledge. Hence, it is highly likely that at the end of my own life I will know very little, but what I will have come to know for myself will be glimpses of true knowledge, away from illusions and erroneous steps leading to what I can only call ‘pre-fabricate’ knowledge. And even if this is all a waste of time and even if it leads me nowhere in the end I have a thirst for something that I won’t always have with me: my brain. It is the one true mystery of life and people waste time trying to comprehend the existence of god, a notion even more out of reach than any other mystery left for us to uncover! Why is it that, beyond logics, people seem so determined to find the answers to the existence of God and his so-called plans or purpose, when they don’t even know themselves? Is it because it is always easier to pick at something further removed from ourselves than finding the courage to face what is starring us in the face? It all comes down to ignorance which feeds our reliance on even more far-fetched explanations. I therefore must conclude that the question of god is irrelevant to man’s development. As I will keep digging beyond the surface of everything that is obvious and taken for granted I must expect more turmoil within myself...since I am my own guinea pig, in a sense. But hey, better be my own experiment than anyone else’s!

I suddenly feel so liberated!...Until the next hurdle, that is.

The world is governed by the rules of probability and chance ensued by the latter. Forgive my lack of clarity and wrong choice of terms when it comes to rather more scientific arguments...I am no mathematician nor am I a scientist, I only go with what seems to make sense. I believe in logics. LOGICS. The world is one maze of a jigsaw that looks very much chaotic at first glance, but if one is to take the trouble to look more closely they are likely to find that there is no such thing as chaos in the sense we understand or define the word. There is something that we see or can identify which we call chaos but haven’t we in fact given to the word a misguided definition?  We call chaos what is devoid of sense, what is truly random, an amalgam of randomness...here’s the dictionary’s definition, actually: “A state of total confusion and lack of order.”

But I claim that what we call chaos is little more than another mistaken thought on what we think we are seeing for what presents itself as chaotic might well simply be beyond our grasp.

And now : “Chaos theory is a scientific theory about situations that obey particular laws but appear to have little or no order.”

So, really a term like chaos has very little meaning and is a blanket word that covers aspects of what we cannot comprehend. But there must be order in the most chaotic shamble. As much as words like ‘all’ or ‘tout’ in French which I grew wary of very early on.

Because I believe in logics I must be able to see that everything around me -everything- follows some logical line and if I am unable to distinguish it from ‘chaos’ or nonsense then it is merely because I lack the understanding or necessary knowledge.

I grew bitter towards everything remotely mathematical and used to have nightmares about geometry. What I only come to understand now is that geometry, maths, physics and other scientific fields are tools one needs to use if they are to sharpen the logical side of their brain. The downside of it all is that such tools gives man the false sense of power over nature and life itself. However, scientific discoveries and the tools they provide in our quest to understand our world are never more than tools that should be used towards helping along the way. They provide no answer in themselves. They do, however, easily swell people’s heads into thinking that they hold the key to better understanding. 

Well...One should never let himself be fooled into thinking that a shiny tool- the means- can replace the answer- the end. The main risk in doing just that is what is happening right now: we lose our ways so much that far from seeking answers from within we keep skipping fundamental steps towards true understanding and we are blinded by the very things that were supposed to help in the first place. Therefore science has now become the means to a very different end whereby comfort and technology are in fact what we should be aiming at.

Now onto another side of me that has long disturbed me: the sense that I am arrogant. I feel very much deluded in the sense that I have that core belief that I am menat to do something extraordinary, somehow. As though I was that special. Well, perhaps it is a necessity to have a proportion of the human race deluded into thinking that they have something special to do or should at least what they can to leave a ‘trace’. If enough of us are enclined to think such things then the probability that one true genius will emerge from the mass is greatly improved. Makes sense. So, really, if I loathe that side of me for being so full of myself perhaps I should make peace by reminding myself that, if anything, I am in fact part of a bigger natural process within which the best can be harvested. In this I suddenly find the idea of being a mere grain of sand much more appealing. Then again, I was always secretly swayed towards the argument for humanity over the individual.