I always wondered why there is so many noise about the Pro-Lifers and the Pro-Choicers. Tell me: would you, as an unborn child, providing that you are a thinking living creature at that point (as Pro-Lifers suggest) and providing that you have been properly informed of what should you expect once you're "out", have wanted to be beared to term, or would you preffer being aborted?
As nobody asked me, I was born. My father already had built a road I was supposed to go, carefully aligned traffic signs, so I wouldn't get lost. He joined my mother in guarding their precious property from any physical damage. So, I am lucky I learned how to walk. They loved me so much that they paid two nannies at time to watch over me, while they were busy earning money to dump their gifts of love all over me. Finally, grandma took over, not letting me out of her sight, except for the short periods of school-time. Just as I was graduating being the most spoiled brat on the block, my father started new family, so he transplanted me there to live with him, his lovely, new, younger, blonde, greedy, Monroesque wife, and her creepy oversized children. First time in my life I was forced to eat dinner and to brush my teeth after it. I hated it.
So, instead of becoming a total idiot, I became a rebel. I was searching for the ways to make my father's life more miserable. Bad grades, not attending classes, reading comic books, watching television, listening to loud punk music, adopting the ever grungier look, getting drunk (fairly often), getting stoned, not coming home the whole night... Later I organized my attitude in a life-style phylosophy and a political statement using references in the art, history, sociology, psychology, phylosophy, anthropology, and other sciences. Presented with such a development, my father decided that I definitely missed the road he had built for me, and gave up on trying to "correct" me. So, with blessing of my parents I left, beginning the trip in the real world on my own. Exploring the real world, I gradually learned that those, who couldn't reach the agreement with their own family, are rarely able to agree with the society either. That is the price of thinking with your own head.
I did it my way. There is a lot of me scattered along that way. Too many things happened. I lost count of the most of them. There is nothing of them in me. There is a lot of me lost in them. So, I am almost empty. Emptiness is a great, relieving, infinite feeling, like overlooking a great desert. I am slowly fading into the desert. Sometimes I feel such a joy, because soon I'll be leaving this sad little planet.
Any recognition of my insignificant existence would spoil the pleasure that I take in sneaking out from the human life.
So, I, carefully, avoided any success.
The human shell, presently infested by me, I will have to leave behind, regretably, because I built it in a quite sastisfying design. I would leave it grinning. "You were not fun to play with, so I left," it'll say to many my friends, and to many more of those who were less than friends to me. I shall be alone at last.
I don't expect you to understand. Naturally you wouldn't. If you will, then I already must have known you from some-where or from some-when. I always sunk in people, partying untill wee hours, but they never reached my loneliness, like the water would never reach the inside of the drop of heavy oil or of quick silver (which sinks in water). To heavy to float like scum, or like lite oils. To hydrophobic to dissolve in the water. Reaching the bottom I met more of them. They could never merge in the aquatic environment. Each of them on his or her own lone planet. Each of them in his or her own, lone, moonless, starless, vast desert. Slowly fading.
In emptiness. Now, as I am approaching the ultimate frontier, and as I am about to leave you, my dear mortals, I should say that I don't feel any remorse for whatever you suffer from that what is ready for you in the next few decades, because you haven't made yourself ready for it. I would rather laugh. Gods are laughing. That was a favorite saying of a very certain crazy Roman emperor, a lonely guy, that I some-when met. Can't you hear it? The space is full of laughter.
The fullness, warm fullness of laughter, fills the space beyond our planet. I am welcoming it in myself. To full my emptiness.
| | |