darkwall
Well-known member
Yesterday I wrote in my diary:
"I honestly would rather not have friends than go to these parties. The layers of fakeness, of people smiling without their eyes, of forming pretend relationships, doing shallow things such as trying to get laid with strangers, is like slime to me. This slime also covers me, when I laugh at something I don't find funny, say something I don't mean, or do any of those things that are necessary in perpetuating normal human relationships. But this does not mean that I should party with the most slimy of students, who have nothing to say, and take drugs and alcohol because in them it becomes an actual feeling, tantamount to an emotion - that is to say, of completeness."
I must stop pretending to myself that I don't love people. For I do: I love them very much. But I have this handicap of being unlikable, and believe me, I should prefer blindness to this handicap. This is proved by the following scenario: picture a man in a glass tower, with the most beautiful sights all around him, living there for a lifetime.
The appreciation of beauty is itself like a thirst, or something lacking in you: this feeling of beauty being part of a beyond is what has led man to believe he has a soul. In reality, that feeling of incompleteness when looking at something wonderful is really a desire for perfection - its, not our own. Happiness, on the other hand, is a feeling of fulfillment, and so is an end in itself.
So I can invent or experience beautiful things in solitude, but not actual happiness: films give us this impression, but happiness at the end of a film is like that at the end of a wedding - we are happy for them, not ourselves. No; happiness is a gift bestowed by other people.
Therefore ... happiness in life is more important than beauty, although ideally they should bring out the best in each other. The glass-tower existence is incomplete because beauty is just another emotion. My being unlikable, or being unapproachable (these being interchangeable in my current situation) is like a sudden ailment that attacks the spirits like paralysis numbing the nervous system: I would rather die blind than unloved.
"I honestly would rather not have friends than go to these parties. The layers of fakeness, of people smiling without their eyes, of forming pretend relationships, doing shallow things such as trying to get laid with strangers, is like slime to me. This slime also covers me, when I laugh at something I don't find funny, say something I don't mean, or do any of those things that are necessary in perpetuating normal human relationships. But this does not mean that I should party with the most slimy of students, who have nothing to say, and take drugs and alcohol because in them it becomes an actual feeling, tantamount to an emotion - that is to say, of completeness."
I must stop pretending to myself that I don't love people. For I do: I love them very much. But I have this handicap of being unlikable, and believe me, I should prefer blindness to this handicap. This is proved by the following scenario: picture a man in a glass tower, with the most beautiful sights all around him, living there for a lifetime.
The appreciation of beauty is itself like a thirst, or something lacking in you: this feeling of beauty being part of a beyond is what has led man to believe he has a soul. In reality, that feeling of incompleteness when looking at something wonderful is really a desire for perfection - its, not our own. Happiness, on the other hand, is a feeling of fulfillment, and so is an end in itself.
So I can invent or experience beautiful things in solitude, but not actual happiness: films give us this impression, but happiness at the end of a film is like that at the end of a wedding - we are happy for them, not ourselves. No; happiness is a gift bestowed by other people.
Therefore ... happiness in life is more important than beauty, although ideally they should bring out the best in each other. The glass-tower existence is incomplete because beauty is just another emotion. My being unlikable, or being unapproachable (these being interchangeable in my current situation) is like a sudden ailment that attacks the spirits like paralysis numbing the nervous system: I would rather die blind than unloved.
