And I turned to face the cold and damned

I swear to god, if anything, possessing sanity in a world of unmitigated insanity will be the trigger that finally drives me insane. Fucking irony. Fucking hell.

The more healthy&stable I become, the more alienated, alone I realize I am.
Alone and suffering.

And when it comes down to it, what good is sanity in the face of absolute aloneness? What value is a mental, emotional, and spiritual language that is entirely incommunicable? When do mere human fallibility and sheer insanity begin to bleed into each other? Am I sane if sanity, by default, is socially defined because knowledge is collectively gained?

George Orwell himself wrote that "perhaps a lunatic is just a minority of one."
[Granted, that line stems from a troubled protagonist's internal struggle to find truth amidst an oppressive, totalitarian society; the character is despairing, conflicted, confused, and his perception is obfuscated by the absolute tyrannical monopoly on truth... that is to say, the line itself may not be truth.]

Monopoly on truth... as though it were a commodity for humans to control, as though it is dependent on our existence and not the other way around... as though with enough sickening egomania, we truly become gods. Disgusting power lusting wretches.

Now belief, that's another matter altogether.
Belief is entirely dependent on human existence.
Belief is entirely subject to human control.
And belief itself is the root of all power, and subsequently all tyranny.


[The irony of tyranny is that the worst tyranny is the voluntary surrender of freedom.]
[The irony of tyranny is that the worst tyranny is the voluntary surrender of freedom.]

But sanity is tied to belief in truth, and who defines truth and thereby sanity?
The salient crux: no one transcends belief, no one is omniscient; there is only agenda; there is only those in power with more ability to influence belief. And sanity, oh sweet sanity, is owned by the worst possible demographic: power lusting egomaniacs.

Maddening. Enough to drive you mad.

And what are you left with when sanity in the face of absolute aloneness renders you as good as insane? Or what's worse your loneliness finally drives you insane?

Defy, defy, defy sanity; embrace, embrace, embrace your own wild ideals.

The Story of a Million Faces

I've surrendered.

I've surrendered the to fact that I won't surrender; that no matter how futile, how inane & abysmal it gets, that no matter of fucking foolish & delusional & absurd... I can't surrender. I'll fucking love you.

It is fucking absurd. It's the most ruthlessly laughable tragicomedy you'll ever hear of. Heartbreak.
I applaud you, Almighty, that was a truly magnificent one. Really beautifully executed. Touching, really. Did you see how skillfully the dramatic irony was employed? She really believed him! She really did! She thought love would last forever!

Obdurate, blind, tragic.

I haven't been able to eat a full meal in days.

I'm alone.

& yet, I know I'm not alone. I know I'm no different; as insignificant as every other motherfucker out there who fell prey to those goddamned inescapable human tendencies, to the inevitable & doomed human drama, to [yes, yes, you guessed it] L-O-V-E. Blessed with the natural capacity for it.
This is insanity, my god.
My pain is the human story that has unfolded over&over&over for millennia, told & untold, remembered & lost, the story of a million faces. Beaten weary by the hand of time.
& it still reaches fresh, unfathomable depths, it still is the biggest. thing. in. the. world.

& it is incommunicable.


Is it denial if you know you're wrong? Wrong & defected & hopeless?
Is it denial if you can say "I'm in denial"?


& it will hang over me, the irrational hope. The years will go by, & I will live in triumphant dreams, find respite in the false oblivion, breathe the slaphappy delusions, until I will breathe no more.