On the long straight path I've made, and up to my 18th year of my existence on this world. I've come to the realisation, found many things :
At first we are born, and what glorious days. Yes, I say glorious, because we can't remember them ! But isn't that happiness after all? And happiness is such a bizarre word. An ambition that people seek !
Oh thou, writers be warned; those who seek this writing as to find themselves an organised well-written pattern of thoughts are boundly mistaken. Life and our thinking aren't straight, this book represents life on itself, the reality of it. Why should it be a straight formulation of words?
And just like you do loose yourself watching the spectre of your existence; caught between the patterns, you'll loose yourself on the straight spiralous texts of this book, accompanying you to the very last of those pages.
Reader been warned, and maybe would them complain about loosing their time; because yes, I've made you come this far to only let you fall back to the starting line, the origin wonder : What is life? And for that I can easily ease the reader's mind because I do have a laying answer, I do not know. Am I God? Now that the reader and the writer are on the same page with the same informations shared, two actions can be taken, following the lecture through tje writer's nautious and pretentious mind, forgetting everything you know from your perspective, leaving; And on which case, I wouldn't blame you at all, but for now ‹›
Let this story begin :
I remember having stopped, at my very words; "At first, we are born, and what glorious days"; Now, finally would I explain; They are glorious days, because we can't remember them.
1- Human beings remember what marked them, and to mark a men's memory : You need a very sad intrigue, or a happy ending.
" Being always happy is sad"
2- Ceasing to be happy is sadder, frustrating would I say!
That elementarily makes our happy memories the reason of our sadness, because, after them, Oh, but we are left; with only emptiness on our heart !
But those very memories are also our happy ones, and could be the reason that leaves us alive, not consumed by the darkness of our thoughts that do happen to fall on us, heavenly from the sky sometimes.
These memories become hope.
But what is hope? We keep repeating on our mind those very same days, and from an objective vision : we know they might not even come again. Thus, we are only living a fantasy to keep ourself from dying. We are like a gazelle, on the jaws of a lion, imagining itself galloping on the infinite camps (prairie) of flowers, as the lion holds her throat closer. Hope! It's the blatant attachment and the expectation of those memories coming again, finding that happiness we lost. Hope is sad. Not having any memories is the only happiness. After it comes the tyranny of being a child, and being and retirement.
On which, both, we do not have the burden of life, we are innocent or too done ! Other people take care of us, we do focus on living but only. That is why, it is the sweetest hell on the longitude of our life;
Being an adult is exhausting, and very sickening.
As we keep progressing on our life, leaving the sweet sheets of happiness, we walk in to the state of an infant, and start understanding life, it's a period of betrayal. We begin to understand, and yes, would I explain again :
We understand that life isn't given, nore is it your friend. Once you allow yourself to fall on its sweet warmth on her back (tiedeur), it wakes you with swords. You are "betrayed". But now you know life is your enemy, although a very silent pacifist one.
It is the men who watches you burn, not the ones who tortures you, not that reason you burn !
But what a good turn of events, right? What is better for a men than knowing his enemies, I'd even be audacious enough to recognize and say : it's even better than knowing your friends.
We grow up even older, my life, the life of the " writer" was what any men with the same difficulties could humbly call "a torments"
We as human beings, have this importune and very bothering deffect, of thinking the world resolve around us. That goes naturally to assuming we have the worst life, biggest burden and creating that fake mirror that the Other, have it easy. We think we have a very rough life, we think we are wise and know the world, that we obtained a fragment of the truth (And God is that easily affirmable, my writing here is a proof on its own), we think that others swim on banalities, are too shallow, superficial or dumb.
Of course, who would like to admit he is a small entity, insignificant on the course of an incessant never-Ending train of events? That would be to admit we are "useless". No, we are important to the world. There has to be a why.
That's what the Tourah, the Bible and the Quran thought us after all, right?
That's also why we suffice ourself to a very limited thinking : One hand cannot clap but many can, one for all and all for one, right?
We try to convince ourself, and form of our uselessness something even bigger and useful. Now that we know that we as individuals are useless, we start to walk on a straight pattern of thought that lead us to the general benefit, and the pack-core, globalization our actions as a whole, as if the whole humanity was one individual, and now do we see some progress! We are relieved.
We group and attire every single individual with their silly habits and try to group them together to form and interpret a common sense out of this blasphemous bizarreness.
Those who stand out are looked at as silly, or weird. We humans hate who stand out and can't accept them. Like we can't accept what we do not know, right?
We continue to live, by our code, our morals, our values that are encrypted to us through or infancy, and as we grow. We call them reality, ‹‹that or this is how things should be done›› Knowing very well this reality could turn out to be an illusion, its only mere vague concepts we ourself created and limited ourself to their walls. But that is justified, we say that it's beneficial for the humanity, and for our own well good, to keep advancing in the darkness if this mysterious world after all, wouldn't that be it?
Time passes, and congratulation : we are now a men. Another computer programmed, a sheep of the pack. Easily corruptive by the "whole" the thing we formed. And what a scary thing. I've always thought that it was anything but right, and very unconvinient : the fact that we give the mands (volant/manual/telecommande) of such a big responsibility to a few people, individuals that we call leaders. How blatant and "futile" is men, how absurd we are ! Giving the commands of our integrity to a single unit, individuals we ironically deemed as weak leading that group we formed.
Now we pursue mightiness, we want to be great.
We developed a "God complex"
We deny, and kill anything we do not understand, we start wars, havoc the earth, acquired the right to punish, as if everythings had to belong to us.
Not only do we think everything resolves around us but we now "own" it.
But are we?
As we advance through the spike of adulthood..
The reason you burn is yourself.
Oh do we human burn, because we are used to gifts! And expect from life something it never promised.
