Paradox-Me .... hello, I'm a Vulture!

Everything I've ever written is wrong.

'I' slip out of my hands like sand, every moment of the day; at night I disappear. Tomorrow I will be different, with different (red) waters flowing through my mind.

Can't you feel those chemical explosions in your brain? Doesn't that electric shock make you feel alive?

Absolutism -- it is maddening to grasp for something that isn't there. You can almost sense it, you can just see a little of its light leaking through the cracks of the Realist's stone ceiling. Is it just my mind fooling me, or is it really there?! It is like trying to cover a missed paint spot while being perched on a ladder at a precarious angle, two stories up from the ground. The hard concrete below is begging your bloody submission, but your Idea perseveres and fights Gravity's seduction--you reach out to paint but your brush comes up just centimeters short. How far out do you lean before the ladder tumbles?

There are two halves colliding, like a cold fist of Abstraction against my fleshy face. I am a walking paradox--THERE IS NO SYNTHESIS TO GRASP. Somehow I am the synthesis, and I escape mySelf.

My death calls out to me--Love seems just an illusion compared to its monolithic presence.

Flesh is too fleeting--

can I retreat to my imagination? It is where Father Death has imbued in me his eternal power--his freedom--

I don't know what to think. Do I even know how to think?

I think thinking will get me overthunk.

The Self does not exist in thought, but in action. Thought is the result of action. What I mean by this is the following: the Self cannot plan itself out, it must only act out of its own interests at any given time.

(My question is--is it desirable to abolish the self, or is that nihilistic rejection of humanity's most basic condition?) I am starting to think abolition of the Ego is what is necessary. Have I only become more attached to my ego, to my ways of thinking, than before?

What has been the point of all this--Challenging reality's limits, pushing mySelf and my thoughts to the edge, to the abyss where there is nowhere left to fall from? Is driving oneself mad in search of Truth really the answer?

I cannot find--me--any immutable self. It is not there. What, then, is this Ego I am attached to?

The ego is a blockade to the Will? I don't want to come upon this dualistic idea but it's there in my mind, in my life, in my actions. The Will that drives life, that infuses me with my anima, that allows me to declare with no uncertainty "I AM ALIVE" is flowing, in constant motion of change, reconfiguration and energy-exchange. This is the intersection of knowledge and Faith. That somehow, regardless of the Ego's panic, everything is flowing the way it should, the way it ought.

Ought--and there you are again, you IDEALISM. Curse you! The Will is the ought? Aha! What is, ought to be. That is all.

The trouble is this: Through actions I see faith, through actions I witness faith, through actions faith affects me.

But I am an outsider from this ring of right-brained do-goodedness.

You see, I HAVE NO FAITH.

I HAVE NO FAITH.

I HAVE NO FAITH.