Dark

What would the world be without repression, without displacement, without contempt, without hatred, without anti-depressants, drugs, deviations – in short, a world with consequences, faced without any insulating weakness? A wandering conglomeration of despairing bodies that begs its outsiders to shoot each one in the face. Are we not more honorable a breed to deny all this, to part with the ways that keep individuals from facing the horrifying nakedness of their despair, even if this makes us depressed, though with enough will to live as to leave the shimmering possibility of honest happiness coming our way? Observe your actions and you will likely find a cover-up for something deeper and nastier that you feel at the back of your mind in moments of solitude, moments away from the dazzling transcendence offered by this world that seems now to specialize in the sensational – that nonetheless has a solution, and while this solution places you in the territory of truth, it is a territory that involves the unhappiness in noting the untruth that the world around you entertains – nevertheless an unhappiness with a sense of hope, an unhappiness with high-flying moments of enchanting euphoria, that when it grasps you at those moments you could never foresee, you feel as if you were the living Christ observing children at the serious work of being carefree.