Ode To Independence

Exista o tehnica de neschimbat in arta disimularii. Poti sa disimulezi tot, pana la moarte...desi moartea nu disimuleaza. Poti disimula chiar si dementa, ura de neoprit, chiar si lipsa de inspiratie. Insa putem oare vorbi despre siguranta si independenta disimulata? Da. Insa SIMULAREA acesteia naste ridicolul de care [oare?] ne temem cu totii. Independenta doare cand e furata de cei ce n-o merita.

Look at regular human beings, for example [exemplul viu al neputintei]. You all know English, do you not? Most people know an usual and plain English, others can speak it better, using words that the first category considers them to be from "outer space" [citez "bah, tu chiar intelegi ce spui acolo?"], but it's this category that can actually say "Yes, ma'm, I can talk to a native speaker without feeling as a foreigner". Well, to be honest, it is an attempt to compare this with independence itself. WARNING: It is only an ATTEMPT that I try to put together at 12:00 am, so please don't push my head against the walls if it doesn't come out "comprehendible". Take a dose of Marijuana and quench it with alcohol. You feel independent now, don't you?

What I have noticed during my trips within the sky lights was that most people consider themselves "THEMSELVES", if you get the point, they consider they are unique, outstanding, monoliths and temples of an uniqueness that has reached beyond any person's sight. But what's hilarious is that most "independent" people stick to social values, even if they disagree with them. They act all the same, having the same problems, to be honest, it's like I'm walking next to a million people that look, act and talk the same [reference to an urban version of "Matrix" maybe?].

Another interesting subject in this total outspoken way of debating human norms is the lack of deepness. To this type of being, the word "deep" can either have sexual connotations, or in better cases, can be a connotation into poor Johnny Depp's name. By the way, to add on this, I am not unique, folks. I am one of the watchers, or however you'd like to call it, a "voyeur", an "obsessed", a "freak".

If you feel that you have to respect a certain "value" that you disagree with, don't call yourself independent. If you try to look as regular as the rest, judging those who have the "guts" to be different, then you're not independent. You're a slave.

What's personally intriguing is how you let it conquer you, like a damned plague. But what I like to repeat, as always, is my personal delight in watching these things from the outside, laughing to myself. If you open your eyes to see what surrounds you, you're ignorant. It's not what you see that should haunt you, but what you DON'T see at the first gaze...or even stare. What happens to the smoke after you exhale it, where do the clouds that filled you with rain go? Where does your spirit go when you're thoughtful...?

Coming back to where I started, about independence. How easy to understand is to morally explain your deeds? Like, for instance, when you do a favor to someone or when you take away something, in a totally unfair way. Why do you fall in love with the wrong person? If you fall in love for real, the person cannot be wrong. Love can never be wrong, no matter whom you love. If you like someone just for something earthly, then yes, maybe it is. No, most definitely it is. If it's earthly and you're smart enough, you'll notice it...feelings will change due to earthly situations. If it's not, then the existence of love does not depend on earthly possibilities and it lasts until the end of times.

Now let me talk about INDEPENDENCE. Since until now I seemed to explain some certain terms that will be used in the discussion. The comparison with English skills comes due to a critic view on human's ability to perish: independence and English are antagonistic. But here comes the pleasure. While one can improve English to the point of being able to speak like a native, if you're not born to be independent, it will be just a pointless attempt. The same goes with any sort of talent, it's true, you can be independent in blood without realizing it, as well as having a talent you haven't discovered. But it's THERE, behind your eyes and someone will notice it somehow.

Once you reach that point, where you feel it inside your veins, pulsing along with your heartbeats, there's no way someone can change it.

I didn't tell it to you, but I know you will never hear it from me. It was enough to see your eyes for the first time and feel the power flowing through your veins. Or at least I will not say it to you. I wouldn't like to feed your pride. It was hard to conceive such an objective topic with such hatred inside. If you read someone's words, or hear someone speak, you can already scent the spirit.

But the spirit you feel...does it suit you? Is it what you've dreamed of? Do you like rejecting yourself? It's too late now... There is a beautiful and literally charming magnificence in being able to be alone and desire yourself like that. Analyzing the wonders of what lonesome intelligence can provide you is totally alluring and yet frightening. The words empathetically vibrate with your own individual experience, the pleasure of misleading your own ideas into a subjective analyze gets to become an objective. Many of you forget that you communicate with the “outside” even when you are alone. You communicate when you simply stare at nothing, you communicate even when nobody sees you. The question regarding this matter would be: what does this have to do with independence itself? Well, you communicate it. You express it in various terms, feelings, experiences, but you never sit down and dissect it. The clear experience that has taught many philosophers to “dissect” it, is power. Take Friedrich Nietzsche, for example, who said clearly that independence is for strong people. In the complete use of terms, it is a quality that must be used wisely.

First of all…what makes you human? The ability to rationally think. That leads to the ability to lie. Lying leads to the ability to wear a mask of an indestructible innocence to hide a complete horror. You get born as an ignorant, guiltless, for your mind has not been fed yet, but you “wake up” dying as a pretender that cannot distinguish which mask is the real one anymore. You lie about your power, about your own spirit, to try to blend in with the society. But didn’t the society you praise so much entirely DELETE your own SELF? And if it did, do you feel an immense pleasure seeing this?

You do something and always comes the “but”. You must explain yourself for your deeds…but until WHEN? You reach your last moment of earthling existence and you still explain yourself and others. You talk about others who changed the entire course of things with their mind, but you like not being remarked. Why? Oh yes, you like, through low life ways. Well, the things stay like this: yes, you will impress. You will impress the others for a matter of a couple of minutes, or maybe hours and then…? Then you go to someone else, trying to impress again, through that way… The solution would be not to attempt to be as idiotic as possible…which scientifically sustains the closeness between humans and animals. Animals are independent, but they don’t realize it. You do. Why not making the best of it? Do not ask me, I have no idea how this works, I don’t know all of you… I don’t know how your mind works, although there are many things in common, in this matter.

In another way, people talk about self consciousness. Being a monkey will not make you more interesting. It will most definitely make you ridiculous…but remarked…for a short period of time, it’s true. Why do I imagine one SOLE scene…? There is indeed one single scene that keeps coming in my head. The thin line between love and hate is simply theoretical, practically fanatic love makes you hate and vice versa. One little wrong move can turn the extreme love into pure hatred. I can totally admit I have a sincere repulse towards the monkey acts, towards this teenager like behavior, considered to be mature. You can be even 30 and act like a retard, nevertheless trying to seem so mature minded. Prejudices turn you into a complete retard and even if they say that around 30 you reach full maturity, you can prove them wrong, in a very PROUD way.

One more thing… I despise little girls who turn all poetic about everything. In that ecstasy of a sweet devotement, they start blabbering about how life goes, how dark and philosophic everything is. What is funny is that all the things they write are the same. The subject seems cloned. The fantasies seem twin. The ideas seem over and over burnt with the same fire, their love seems rusted in the same box, with the same perfume, same sickening stench of rotten mind. The same illiterate dreams that feed the fashion nowadays, either depressed or over-happy, the mind revolves the same: towards the brink of uniqueness. Little girls who have a paraplegic orgasm [yes, I used a correct word] whenever the prince of their dreams looks at them or acts like in their chaotic poetry. Or, on the other hand, in their ordered mercantilism. [Note: no personal offence, I am talking about a stereotype and I am willing to meet any person fit in this category who can prove wrong.]

The saddest thing is to watch guiltless people paying for other’s mistakes. I mean, as I watch the surrounding world, I am beginning to realize day by day that people should use condoms more. Or, should USE condoms. A conclusion to this is that the increase of people is not always good. In my own perception, the world would be much better with only 20000 or 30000 real people rather than with millions of consumers of oxygen and resources. Yes, judge me, swear me and insult all I say, but I will stick to this opinion. With all the meanings to offend everyone fit in the “consumers” category, we don’t need machineries here. I remember once I was invited to sustain an essay in front of a sea of people and I noticed that a couple of them were laughing and not paying attention so I told them straightly that they should go on the street or anywhere else, because their intelligence proves its lowliness. And they felt very offended. A teacher of mine who was preaching about the same thing didn’t get any comment back, because she is a teacher. The students don’t have the “balls” to say it straight up to her. Although if I’d be a teacher, I’d ask them to tell me what they think.

Well, with all due respect, people with no intelligence, but not because of a disease, but because of laziness, those people should be shot. True value and power is not sustained by monkey acting and sexual jokes, or laughing whenever you hear something regarding sex. Little kids and deprived people do it, do you really like “broadcasting” your sex life like that?

Wearing fashion clothes and changing a pair of jeans that one month ago were “en vogue” just because now they’re “old fashion” will not make you independent. Listening to an illiterate music spoken by those who think Rembrandt is a football player will not make you independent. Running away from home because your parents didn’t let you go to a stupid show will not make you independent.

And note to all: I am not misanthropic. Some people I have met truly fascinated me. They became a reason for my existence, studying them and listening to them has become a mantra. They represent that small amount of characters that live for more than basic needs. Wherever they are and whatever they do, they can make the best out of it. You can see the sparkle in their eyes, they are amongst you. You just push them away with your daily routine. It is all right, because they can always give you another chance. They will rarely pull you through…but they will always suffer in this abyssal ignorance.

And let me tell you something, you little hypocrites. They REALLY suffer. They have deep sufferings, torments, turmoil, not like you pathetic ones have. They suffer because they create something that you happily blaspheme. It’s interesting how they get blasphemed here while you will get blasphemed in the everlasting life [that, if you are aware of it].

Although I have such an orgasmic verve, I must admit that I don’t like to generalize. There are people who apparently fit in that category, but who can think straight. Of course, as well as poets or artists who, in real life, are social retards. But how can you say you lived if there is never a remembrance of a moment when you created something? That moment when you intersect with your inner self and when you can discover such grandeur. That moment that cannot be attained somehow else and with nobody. That moment when you feel godlike, when you regard your creation and feel the spirit pulsing within. And that turns even better when the vibrations of your flawed spirit can knit with the others’ spirits and create an even bigger bliss. That creative bliss turns so carnal sometimes, the pleasure turns so earthly and comprising your entire being, like a vertigo, it conquers your innocence, the power of the colors or words, or shapes and sounds, all mended with emotions and unsatisfied desires brings you to an elating state. Two poets discussing about another man’s poem, a painter adding a color on an already painted canvas, adding more sentiments, that is true value. The honor that glistens in their vampire-like desire is incomparable. The honor of being the artisans of this crumbled world, putting each of its pieces back together…

And the wide open armed [yes, ARMED] sadness that comprises their disobeying souls as they learn that they are not physically immortal. That without their hands they cannot create anymore, that dreams cannot be kept in the memory and they know they have to die now. The most human thing possible is to deify someone as he’s dead. It's hard to express gratitude when someone’s standing right in front of you, eh?

Yes, for a big amount of you, this is an insult and you will speak it out, because you cannot shut up. But the question on everyone’s lips, which lingers like an unwashed wound, is: do I care?

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