Day 3
119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIOoY4u4CeU
Dear Diary,
119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHD76vtSuDg
When does it occur to suddenly scrutinize for pen and start writing in the middle of the night?
It occurs, When you are afraid, Afraid of yourself, When things seem ugly within you and when you feel like carrying the knife and peeling the skin off the face of a rabbit. And you do it.
You feel the trembling rabbit struggling to get off your hands. And you do not leave it. Instead, give a push into its blood-filled eyes. And you get hurt somehow. Your blood mixes with that of the rabbit. You play with it. And rub it into your face.
There is no remorse, reason, regret. You hope for redemption that you neither get nor you want to achieve.
You look at the rabbit again.
It is as dead as it was alive then. It is as cold as it was warm then. It is as ugly as it was beautiful then.
I cannot convince anyone why I did that. It is no fun.
Then it occurred to me to question the nature of life. The moment life starts, death is trivial, given. Everything that matters is subjective, constructive.
Amidst it, there lies the truth that death is as dubious as our birth.
And you live, surviving obstacles, consuming other life, becoming part of the food chain. And you are just an animal if you are in a food chain. My name, address, interests are irrelevant. Animals are savage. If you ask a leech, why does it suck your blood?
Nothing. There is no reply.
Except for the evolutionary memory that tells it to eat when hungry, it has no consciousness. Reasons are irrelevant. You do not ask.
Given how conscious I am, I could be better, you say.
The nothingness and the failure of how every construct of my ape comrades is just materialistic, I strive for nothing. The meaning of life given by the ape for life makes it more meaningless. It is not enough.
And I realize that I think because I can. There is no need for it.
I am just a supreme creature created out of randomness. There is no essence.
And that makes me as same as that leech. You do not ask me why. "Why did I cut the rabbit?"
It is irrelevant.
Perhaps it makes me different. But maybe, not as weird as we cut rabbit to eat it.
Good Night.
Dated: 26/ 01/ 2013
119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDFBkumMhcK
