E tenebras, lux dormiens

This Above All

After some extraordinary difficulty, as well as putting off this post, I have decided that whenever several days go by without a post, you can definitely be sure that there will be a day when several posts are made at once, which is today.

I don't know why I can't come out, why I continue to closet myself, denying myself a life that I reveal only online. I have half a mind to delete this entire post because of one thing, that I am just unum e pluribus (one out of the many) that are also posting their "angst!", their "trepidation!", their "trials! and tribulation!", their "woe! sadness! loneliness! depression! suicidal despair! longing for recognition! longing for fame! longing to find a significant other! (or at least, a joining into the seamy, seedy, underground, heated, discovering, of the most twice reviled and most praised of all things, sexual orgasm with someone for whom you feel attraction.

Angst! Angst! Angst! The many stories of "When I grew up, I knew I was different." The story, at once, is both heartening and depressing. Will I never be original!? My, six billion people on this planet, a large percentage speaks English, and in that percentage, I must be confined to a statistics.

Oy! Oy! Oy! Oy! Oy! Oy!

Perhaps the most insipid thing is that as long as I remain in innocence, my post will just be the pathetic whining of a post-pubescent not-really-teen young man that still can't find a way to be happy beyond the facets of life that he finds reasons to stay so pessimistic.

Damnaaayyyyshuuuuuun!!!!!!!!!!!

It is high time, high time. It is nigh time, nigh time. Yet this prolonged bemoaning of hope against despair and hopeful despair against despairing hope just proves to me that I am more in words than in deeds, more inclined to "like a whore, unpack my hearts with words." The only alternative is this, is this that I must venture, apparently alone, into a cowardly old world, with my broken ears to catch snippets of sonal dangers, wailing and wawling that we fly the nests to end up in this horridly, unfulfilling world of which not only everyone is made of such the same mold of fools, but also me!

Yes, I am megalomaniac. Yes, I think myself special! Yes, I want to be so original, so different, that I refuse to submit to the mainstream. And yet, I find myself in another group entirely, that purports to be so non-mainstreamed that everyone joins them, so the only hawks are those conservatives trying to pass the Federal Marriage Amendment Act. I doubt that I should ever get married, because I could do so only for the right reason, and only with those that love me so much he would forswear any sex with any other guys but me. To be removed of that right is to do a great disservice and will release from me an ambivalent rage.

In the end, everyone will discuss exactly the same thing and likes exactly the same books, or if they do not, they will have within themselves such a mold from which other fools could be made, and one in ten of those fools will unfortunately be me.

Perhaps there is nothing wrong with that, and that I overreact at this swarming mass of the Net generation, younger and older than I am. After all, a sense of belonging is what I need, and without that, without true reality of looking into another's eyes and knowing that they know, I cannot count myself among the priveleged and all my words I've wasted in bits and bytes are merely spurious, ranting, and empty.