Love, my self-adorned Humanity, and me, were in every book that I had to read lately. In every scene of a movie I saw. In every conversation with people that I like, even with those i dont.
And when I reflect back on them, on Orwell's 1984 or Dogsville, or just the simple feeling of unease around people who I denounced as Hypocrites. Even more, in the feeling of betrayal I somehow felt from within myself.
It only results in a session of self loathing, maybe some good lashing, and self spanking. Things that when I look infront of a mirror or sit on bed and raise my legs on the wall, look at me from above, seem such a pathetic cry for attention, or for my teacher to tell me that I'm good at math. Ironically, very typical.
Who's to say that I wouldnt do what Dogsville people did. Who's to say that it'd make any difference if I didnt. or If I'd respond differently to someone trying to inflict that on me.
Who's to say why I write this on this blog. Who's to say why u come here and read it.
Even now when I am trying to spill out my disgust at my own inability to understand myself, to reassure myself, disgust at the irony, that I could spend a whole night talking to someone about humanity, and then come back to my bed and feel this utter loneliness.
Who's to say which is worse, the hangman or the victim that forgives him. And who's to say which one you are, at any given moment in time.
What if evil disappears? What if suffering seizes to exist? isnt that in a way just shrinking the colors of life... how is it enriching to Humanity in anyway? to lose one of our feelings? isnt it just like the destruction of language in Orwell's 1984?
And, finally, How cruel is it to ask such a question?
It probably is nothing more than the hallucinations of someone trying to make his own trivial sufferings "noble" or maybe "intellectual"...