Sede Vacante

The light is on but no one is home.

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Insanity Beckons

Going insane.

It’s happening again. I admit, this is the longest spell of normalcy (or is it complacency?) that I’ve ever endured. Like the previous bouts, the strongest driver of this change is disgust. I’m disgusted with myself again. Sick of what I’ve become. Just the other night, someone asked me how I can possibly consider myself a failure considering what I’ve been able to do. Well, it’s simple really, if you’re not yet happy, then you’ve failed. There is no further discussion.

And so, like the Nietzschean drama that has been the story of my life, I find myself back where I began–complacent with the things around me, and disgusted at the things inside me. The dialectic continues, life goes on, but the actors change their roles, appearance, and motivations. Tyrants become slaves, lovers become strangers, and of course, the steadfast become chaotic and unstable.

A strangely enchanting girl once told me that a change of hairstyle usually marks a more profound inner change. I guess she must be right. At least there are some changes that I don’t will on my own. My hair is well on its way to leaving me forever. Perhaps its my last chance to finally let it touch my back and whip in the wind.

In terms of changes, I think that’s going to be the simplest and the least traumatic.

Don’t worry, I’ve done this all before. More than once. And I’d like to think that each molting has left me stronger, and wiser. Of course, each one also almost killed me. But we’re all going to die anyway–one thing that thankfully will never change.

(I know that I promised somewhere that this blog would never regress into some sort of journal of my pathetic unremarkable life. But Ronnie made me break that rule. It’s all your fault, dear.)