We sustain ourselves on what comes on our way. I see everyone desperately looking for someone to approve of them. I see men and women, all thirsty for love, and yet, very counter intuitively never give any love to anyone else, as if the more scarce you make a commodity, the more precious it gets. I see everyone, holding against each other, in hope that they might come closer in some unforeseen future.
I see no problem in it. It is as it is, and human beings are complex social beings.
My main concern is me. I don't wish to be part of this process. Ultimately everyone loses.
The social and communication media are rife of people who wish to be noticed, if only once. A single approval, a single comment or promotion of some sort is eagerly looked for. But I am not concerned about them, I am just worried that I am, for the most part, one of them. I don't want to be like that.
What is more important than fame right now? What is more fruitful for me as compared to having all these beautiful people finally acknowledge my love or importance or superiority or goodness or uniqueness or anything reassuring of that sot ... ? off course it will make you happy, but you wont believe them for you mind will change... you need to be told that you are loved again and again. Which proves that you don'r really believe them. You know that bull shit is going on. What is more important to you than that ?
Is there some sustenance that is apart from the drug of being praised or substantiated or magnified?
Aadil, an old friend of mine, died this Tuesday. It has been just five days. Nothing is his fault, because Aadil was just a part of my imagination, a part of consensual reality. The thing that made his being is the same thing that made my being and that makes the entire thing that the universe is. His death is in ever way, my death. I will never die, since there is no me there to die. The last bits of my story will likely be pretty gruesome, and pretty sad.
I love the existence of my ego. I feel a great lure of the question of life as Huzefa the after-life of Huzefa. That is because of my love for personality of Huzefa. That is a huge hindrance for me really enjoying life. It is such self concern that really causes me to be scared. Don't I trust trust that human life is just as long as it must be? It must or mustn't be like that, I have no clue. Culture might have a great influence on what one wants and how long one expects his or her own life to be. Different people have different thoughts about this. There can be no real answer to such a question, for it will change from time to time.
Maybe death will suck. Knowing that all misconception will have to go, knowing that it is going to make no difference, knowing that the world will be okay without me. In fact, you are the problem in the world. Without you, the world is simply flawless.
Yes, it is I who bought all the dissatisfaction in the world. Without me, the question of satisfaction and dissatisfaction does not arise.
If at all, my parents are to live without the assurance of me being there, that would be sad. But I must be OK with it. I have no choice in this regard. It would suck, and that would be a very sorry state of affairs. The greatest blessing of one's parent's death, is that the death of the parent, gives the child the permission to die. There is no better peace then this, I imagine. Having no one to live for, just living for the heck of it.
We live on the sustenance that comes our way. The only thing that needs to be sustained is the ego. As long as I live, the sustenance is that of fear and approval and love and such stuff. If the sustenance stops, and that is a rare occurrence, then we, fortunately, die. There is no other sort of sustenance. And that is cheerful fact.
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