Freeling nihilistic today.

I feel like telling the whole goddamned world to go fuck itself and to leave me the hell alone and let me breathe for one goddamned second.

I’m like, fuck you all.

And if I was not such a slave to the absolute Truth, I would be able to enjoy this mood. I’d get pissed off at people, maybe write some evil shit in this blog, rail against the injustices in my life, and blow off a hell of a lot of steam in the process.

But I made my deal with the Devil a long time ago, and the contract reads that in exchange for the powers I have been granted, I will be sursed to always know the truth about myself and be forever incapable of escaping my Olympian point of view for long enough to just be my own self for a while.

To be Human. Merely human. And normal.  Average, even. Whatever it takes for me to escape this constant knowing and seeing and understanding that has denied all that is human inside me for a long time.

Like I am not allowed to be just another person in a sea of 7 billion. I am unique or I am nothing. I’ve been a queer duck for so long that it’s become central to my identity and the very idea of being merely average seems like death to me now.

Those weird poiwers of mine are all I have to offer the world.

Without them and the strange wonders they bring. I would have nothing.

I wouldn’t even know who I was any more.

But here they are, and here I am. Hating the world and hating myself and hating the constant noise from all those computers clicking and clattering away in my head. It’s no wonder that I spend so much time hunkered down and trying to shut everything out.

My outer world is very quiet, but my inner world is loud as hell. I have to get deeply absorbed in some task before I can even hear myself think. The pistons grind and the roller roar and the industrial press clangs and the computers click to one another like electric songbirds and I just cower in a corner and try my best to relax.

Sometimes I can even cope.

And I know that is what is really going on in my head. I do not have the luxury of ignorance and its connected ability to allow for catharsis without justification. I can’t just act on my emotions and vent them into the world without moral justification.

Even when I am writing this thing, which is supposed to be a safe place to express whatever I need to express,I can’t just lash out at the world willy-nilly.

As far as I can tell,. mentally healthy people have some ability to adjust their personal reality in order to better suit their emotional needs.

Not me. To me, reality is what it is and that’s it. There’s no flexibility built in to the system at all. My mind derives the truth and that is it. Case closed.

Past that point, only new input can alter my perception of the truth. My emotional needs don’t stand a chance.

And I know how wrong this all is. I know, intellectually, that there are a lot of different but equally valid way to look at the world and that my brutal truth machine is only one of them. I know that I would be a lot healthier if I coule simply let my mind choose whichever of these points of view – let’s call them filters – whichever of these filters makes me the happiest at that moment.

But I can’t do that. It would violate objectivity, and I am very emotionally dependent on my sense of objectivity. I need to believe that I am seeing things as they really are, with clarity and focus, or I feel totally lost in this confusing and frightening world.

My actual senses are poor and so I have to rely on my inner senses and their ability to deduce, infer. and calculate to compensate.

Anything that messes with that process has to go.

But it’s a tragically inhuman and intolerant system. There is no intermediary layer between me and the truth, no agent to negotiate with reality and try to minimize the emotional harm it does to me.

And that’s why I feel so vulnerable and exposed all the time. Or at least one of the reasons. I have sacrificed a lot in order to be naked before the truth and I am seriously beginning to wonder if it was worth it.

Sure, I see things others don’t and have extraordinarily sharp perceptions about things and all the rest.

But at the end of the day, I am still just another human being trying to cope with life and not doing so great a job of it.

I mean, ultimately, the point of life is to be happy. Everything else is either total bullshit or a means to that end, including knowing the truth of things.

So if this brutal truth machine of mine is making me a lot more unhappy than happy, clearly something has got to go.

But there is no way that I know of to back away from the truth once you know it. Nothing conscious, anyway. Enlightenment only goes one way – a mind, once expanded, cannot go back to the way it was before.

It just doesn’t fit in its old clothes any more.

And, more fool me, I expanded the fuck out of it when I was far too young to handle what I would learn. Sitting there bored in class or lying in bed trying to get to sleep and thinking about things, making connections, fitting it all into a single world view, and all without conscious effort and with no thought to the consequences to myself.

The result : the human wreckage you see before you,.

Maybe this is why us dreamers are such a depressive lot – when we eschew all limitations in order to soar high and see far, we remove all protection and end up naked and alone in the stratosphere with nowhere to land.

And we get so very tired of flapping that the idea of stopping and just letting ourselves drop like stones becomes very appealing.

We know it would kill us.

But at least then, it would be over.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.