March to the end

Mundane afternoon. Three more papers to go. One tomorrow and two on the day after. Not sure which to study for. Feels like I have all the knowledge I need; sufficient but not complete. Suppose I’ll find out on the day itself. Maybe the adrenaline rushes will pump out words, fill in those voids which now are imperceptible. It’s more important that one keeps the mind healthy and open to ideas, rather than packed to the brim with unorganized information. That way, at least the writings will make sense.

Not sure what I’ll do after the exam. Nothing in particular worth looking forward to. Parents suggest a holiday to some island. No real interest. Think about the technical skills I could try and pick up; better myself, just like everyone else is doing. Tiring more than satisfying. Either the world is bland or I have deliberately expelled my ability to feel excitement. Told a friend the other day that I am the most perfect embodiment of the man from the underground. From beneath and through the cracks on the floorboard, I observe the world; never a part of it and never wishing to be.

We call suffering evil and God good. But what is evil and what is good? As if some all-knowing entity had defined it for us. Suffering is not evil, but merely a biological reaction. And God is not good, but only everything we have wished him to be. Good and evil are the inventions of man; nature is beyond such inventions.

If only there were a moral law, a categorical imperative, to tell us what we can and cannot do. If only life were so easy, and decisions could be made not by struggling with our freedom but by consulting ever so conveniently the laws established by greater powers. If only we could think of ourselves as littler than we actually are, and so not mind all the details that discomfort and distress us. If only we could toss away that desire for individuality, for making a life out of nothing, and accede to the systems of a machine; wherein we find ourselves as diligent cogs, operating without ambition, but having a purpose nonetheless. If only we didn’t think so much, we could be happier; even better, nothing at all.

Someone recently married. I remember once having flipped through a magazine and seeing some pictures of a wedding, remarked on the ineffable beauty of marriage. I no longer recall what that feeling was, nor am I any capable of feeling it now. Should have been mesmerized on the day of the wedding, by the joyful tears, impassioned proclamations. Where has it all gone to?

The person I am in the company of none is entirely different from the person I am in the company of friends. One need not pretend to any office of humanity when one is alone.

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