…and up strides this man, dressed like religion and shoving his beliefs in my face. He has an air of “you’re all entitled to my opinion” about him. It may not be his intention to influence me in any way…not me specifically, but he screams without words and my ear drums are pounding.
I don’t blame him. I don’t even blame the indoctrinating society that made him this way. I don’t blame myself for feeling…afflicted. And I don’t blame the same society that pushed me in the other direction.
We’re all born with it. Loneliness. Solitude. It’s DNA. Or genetics. Or nature. Or something. That’s why we have urges. To pass seed. To receive seed. To create. To procreate. To pass the time. To preoccupy ourselves. For a few minutes…and then for a lifetime.
But it fills no gaps. When we’re not preoccupied, we still want not to feel alone. In a crowd of everyone else’s ‘procreative needs for togetherness’ (or ‘people’, if you will) and still looking for more. So we give it names. Then we create rules. To explain it. Or rather, to explain why there is no explanation for it. And we give that a name. Till it takes on the form of an Asimovian robot; a life of its own to control our lives. We don’t know what’s good for us, right? Only human. Only lonely.
Not ironic that what saves us is what’s going to kill us all, then. Separation. Righteousness. Blood. War. Not very effective. Seems like we’re just delaying it a little bit. Afraid of what we say is coming, maybe.
I don’t blame him. I don’t even blame the indoctrinating society that made him this way. I don’t blame myself for feeling…afflicted. And I don’t blame the same society that pushed me in the other direction.
We’re all born with it. Loneliness. Solitude. It’s DNA. Or genetics. Or nature. Or something. That’s why we have urges. To pass seed. To receive seed. To create. To procreate. To pass the time. To preoccupy ourselves. For a few minutes…and then for a lifetime.
But it fills no gaps. When we’re not preoccupied, we still want not to feel alone. In a crowd of everyone else’s ‘procreative needs for togetherness’ (or ‘people’, if you will) and still looking for more. So we give it names. Then we create rules. To explain it. Or rather, to explain why there is no explanation for it. And we give that a name. Till it takes on the form of an Asimovian robot; a life of its own to control our lives. We don’t know what’s good for us, right? Only human. Only lonely.
Not ironic that what saves us is what’s going to kill us all, then. Separation. Righteousness. Blood. War. Not very effective. Seems like we’re just delaying it a little bit. Afraid of what we say is coming, maybe.
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