On [little] deaths (Part II)

Sometimes I stop myself. There are nights, like this one, when reason overtakes every single impulse and reigns supreme. I find myself without doubts, without the little, harmless lies we tell ourselves in order to brighten up a cloudy thought. Grey areas become black and white, as blurry lines are refined to the point of madness. 

I love and hate these nights. While experiencing their sheer emotional brutality I wonder how I will be able to go back to hoping; and yet, I always do. I don’t know whether to call that stupid, human, or stupid. I don’t know whether clinical honesty to oneself is necessary in small doses on demand, or regular therapy. In my case it’s honesty with a side of cynicism. 

I’ve never hated the word jaded, nor has its meaning ever presented me with a road sign of a dead end. I know the road’s twists and turns well enough to understand that it never ends, not until the very end, and even that is not a wall you hit, but a secret cliff that’s never been there before. 

For as long as I can remember, one of the things I hated the most was the concept of a static, inert path. As far as weak examples go, my hair has paid the price. I get bored easily, I lose interest with the smallest things, and once a change of mind has occurred, it can never go back. It’s not about being unchanging or hardheaded, it’s the fact that by now I know all too well that when you’ve seen someone’s true colors, no matter how desperately you adjust their brightness or definition, no matter how many filters you apply based on circumstantial evidence, it will always be them you’re looking at.

This year is almost at an end, so I can safely vote for the best line, the most defining one, and the award goes to: people have broken up with truth. They have disowned it, they steer clear of it, they evade it like it’s a demon from the depths of hell that’s after their soul.

What soul?

The one they were carelessly and recklessly drinking to death three nights ago? When have they ever respected it? When have they ever protected it? Only when it’s been affiliated to their ego. 

I can accept and understand a certain degree of compromise in light of a life concept that offers an abundance of personal freedom and the necessary weapons of emotional comfort and self-respect. But I loathe the socially hardwired need to imprison yourself and others in concepts you either don’t believe in or are too afraid to question or challenge.  

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