Wednesday, December 22, 2004

And now, I'm going to "examine my navel" so to speak. You've been warned.

Time performs strange alterations upon one's identity and affect. College has been both the best and worst transition I've ever endured. Because of it, I have been forced to reckon with mental illnesses, destructive habits, and character flaws which have beset me for so long that I regard them as the defining boundries and guywires of my personality. To even recognize these dessonances as the source of my coninuous misery - much less, attempt to rectify them - suggests that I must derange myself further and rebuild from scratch.

At least, that is how have viewed my situation until this afternoon. While riding to the airport, I experienced what alcoholics refer to as "a moment of clarity." Perhaps there is more to me than sheer persona. Perhaps I am neither cursed nor blessed. Perhaps beneith it all, the central level of my Self remains original, uncomplicated by mistranslated and ill-guided attempts at identity.

Or perhaps I've already slaughtered my moral fiber and character.

Ah yes, it's true. The serotonin slips away from my synapses. Neuronal bridges burn, and I can now see my past actions for what they were - quests for an exterior which adequitly markets "Larkin" to a public of social consumers. I had to have it, too, no matter the cost of comfort, the burden of consideration, or the degree to which I betrayed my spirit.

I have strove to be radical. In all aspects, I have expressed my greed for individuality;defiance and abbhoration walk hand-in-hand with my revolutionary triumphs. I tried to be cynical and disenchanted, as if I alone possessed the secret of how to achieve rapture and were merelly biding my time in this realm before escaping to somewhere more stimulating. Mystery attracts spectators by baiting their curiousity. But under all this vaguery lies nothing. Nothing!

shiny objects