A rant without pants

I thought something was wrong with me. I never could swim into the normalcy that seemed so easy for the rest of the world. The feedback i received was affirming too - you are strange. So I studied myself and the world and everything that begins and ends with that “myself”. That is all there is to anything and if anyone tells otherwise it is just that the truths convenient to them are different. When you study self enough to know “i think i am, therefore everything is what i think it is”, you realise the futility of ‘i’ followed by the sheer futility of ‘i am’ and then even more the futility of thinking. The order of those realizations will dictate different observations but it doesn’t negate that futility.

Normalcy is the insanity. The horrible insecure insanity that is shared by the multitudes and therefore appears to be all.

Now i have a lot of titles i can adopt to comfort myself in the pandora’s box of pandemonium. But it is asking me to choose to settle as opposed to understand. It is commonly quoted that the height of knowledge is that we know nothing. But beyond that is the knowledge that we aren’t anything to know or to not know. We are just so bought into the idea of self.

This is the age of individuality, of customization, of distinct identity definitions. Ideally the course should have entailed betterment of each self to the point that everyone reaches the height of collective knowledge but it is more like a new high has been discovered with this “self as a revolution movement”. This high is as individually distinct and different as identity definitions.

Fuck it. I just wonder what it is like to be so perpetually drunk on the experience of being human that wondering about it is merely and at best an entertaining past time or means to advance self.