Weekly distortions 1.0
While earlier I used to run out of things to say to that one person, now I run out of people in contemplation of who to say my thoughts out loud to. While old friends believe I have changed for the worse, I think I have only evolved to the next stage of suffering, which is in course a stepping stone for a higher grade of suffering and so on and so forth. My mind is so cluttered right now. It’s almost as if my internal demons are competing for the throne of my darkness. So many events, so many ideas, so many people: all encapsulated within the lipid rich structure of my throbbing brain. This write up seems to be a very generalist view of the skeletal anatomy of my disfigured existence.
Falling out with an old friend is always agonizing, especially then when you have been emotionally bare before them for more than half a decade. The point of contention is not really defined. While he thinks I have devolved into my Dionysian self and he is somehow obliged to make sure I get into an Apollonian state of mind. What he fails to realize that while I am woefully miserable and borderline insane, it is only leading to the confluence of my personal Apollonian and Dionysian egos. His urge to protect comes from various places, the most prominent being a desire to control the organic variables in his social milieu. While he knows me, he has no idea of the cyclone of self sustenance that brews within my subconscious and the will to power that my pursuit of truth helps me manifest. I do love him, but I am tired of explaining myself to him.
The next point in order is the hatred I have in my heart for my father. He is a good man; the embodiment of post truth father figure who provides and sustains. However, the post truth’s orientation in him is one of destruction lately. He gets off on seeing his kids fight each other for his validation. He enjoys reducing the personalities of well formed individuals into a puddle of shame, tears and constant state of anxiety, so much so that my analytical self is confused whether I even love him or is it all a bubble facade that the low self esteemed version of me cooked up to hold my mental states from imploding. While recently I have been fighting the hate within, I see no point in abandoning truth for the sake of a father who does exceptionally well at being the anti-father.
As I run out of stamina and will to write, I will try to sign off. The mental entropy is an important component of pursuit of truth. But I must balance that pursuit with the manifestation of my will to power(a concept that I will elaborate on soon). As I repair my life, I will be mindful to stabilize these distortions that I’ve been facing lately.
