Amor animarum

Castigated by the reality of the realisation of utopia, you learn that it’s not fair. It never was. Marination of time then evokes admiration for imperfection. What makes your heart race is beautiful; not necessarily something flawless, nor perfection. Struggles are beautiful, intentions are too, and honesty is too. Maybe even something fearsome.

Talking of courtship in a realistic sense, do you think marriage or relationship as an institution was created for personal well-being or procreation? One needs to be cognitively blind to not see it. Procreation, the proliferation of our species, is the purpose behind the making of such institutions if we speak anthropologically. Hence, if you label it so, it inadvertently follows the societal stipulations that contaminate the essence of that idiosyncratic bond.

Heart races still, when you see the oxymoronic implementation of this very model in the sense of its utility, even in an archaic sense. Where the objective is not procreation, but rather individual well-being. That flair. Then you work to make it real, through struggles, persistence, efforts, and whatnot. Dreaming and translating it into reality through time and effort is probably what mostly distinguishes our species from the rest. Very human.

Begs the question, what’s that flair? How to see that? Think about how honest you are with yourself and the rest of the world. What things do you want to say, want someone to hear, but can never say? And why? Donning that armour of logic and self-imposed designation in this play called world, you wonder and wander whilst dying within. Is there some shed where you can be miserable? A straggler? A failure? Yet, will get the basic respect of a human being and maybe more? Can you trust? Willing to take that leap of faith after knowing so well how ugly this world can be? Basically, are you brave and capable enough to first remove that armour? Capable enough to make it a reality? That’s the flair. At the end of the day, if you don’t trust yourself, who will? Flair may.

Why? Apart from whatever purpose you might have given yourself, success in realism may be decided by you, for what it means to you, but it has a very limited spectrum if you really think about it. What’s all left is the essence. People in power can’t talk in freedom, and if just talking is so useless, then why can’t they do it? People without power are so busy chasing it, they don’t even see, forget about talking. Now you either need it, or you don’t. But, if you do.. why? If it’s utilitarianism, infested with games, manipulation, getting the “best” in whatever realistic scales of judgment you have, can it be guaranteed that it will not fail? This world gives us individualism, so busy pleasing the world and chasing normalisation accepted by the world, so desperate to disintegrate into oblivion. My question is, if we’re chasing our inception only, why are we even alive?

I think that’s most normal and acceptable as we can get. Not offensive nor criticisable; not only by humans but by everything. Even fertile.

For the love of nuances, it’s like boiling red wine to drink. Devoid of any ardour, amatory delirium. Bland is utilitarian, why flavours? For my fellow realists, you capture the essence, and circumstances make rest fall in place. A human can only betray itself by ceasing to exist. Capture that essence, rest is all cosmetic. So much for “Feelings don’t feed stomachs”. What you understand about yourself and what they understand about you, or anyone else, is never going to be the same. Never can be. No one knows themselves completely, as they are evolving and non-static. But what you and they capture about yourself, can never be entirely same. Yet, contextualisation is the soul of it.

The way to perceive you can only be given by you, if someone wants to know you. How you think, what you think, and why you think what you think, give life to what you do. Defines who you are. It’s the bedrock of the journey called mutual discovery. How you perceive yourself determines how one sees your metamorphosis in the ravages of time. Just like how your upbringing decides how you capture this ever-so-changing world. Information is a two-way street, just like honesty, trust, etc. You need to first discard your own gun to let them do so, to know the person without the gun. Risky? Of course. Everyone has fears, as well as past experiences. Yet you take chances, risks, stay alive, strive, not knowing whether you will die tomorrow or not. Life has always been a gamble. That being said, only morons believe honest conversations happen with guns. That’s just the prelude before the cowboy duel happens. So pathetically easy, that it takes at least my will to live, out of boredom.

A pointless exercise or not, I do not know. Just letting it out of the system. It takes a fool to know one, and I was never one, despite always being one.