I'll take courage in sinking into the corner and banter soulfully at my reflection, tipping drinks, glasses of wine, in celebration. This is my new friend. To you will my treasure be entrusted. To you will I seek a death in living. What masks I wear I give to no one else.
Misanthropy is the ultimate in simplicity. To some it is cowardice. To some it is an unreal escape, a torture of the weak mind and heart. To me it is the inevitable conclusion of over forty years of struggle, of searching, of vain attempts to exist and co-exist. I've tasted all cures, been open to all ideas, embraced human endeavors, and all the while made personal sacrifices. At the time and until only recently I felt I was becoming one with all around. I fucked and became the fool.
Just today I taught my children the word futile. Impossibility. In the context of resistance, I told them that it was futile. I will not teach them the futility of humanity. They will have to learn that on their own. They will have to come into reconciliation on their own. If they find peace and a piece of life then I will cherish their successes. But at least now they know the meaning of futility.
I, all the while, will embrace this two dimensional existence. I will nod, say kind things, give a child candy and the homeless money. I will make promises to my friends and abide by my obligations. On the surface I will be a friend, a father, a partner. But what depth I have reserved will be only for the internal pursuits of discord. I will find my own dimension in order to exist. My planet will be whatever my mind allows for, whatever my heart feels, on any given day I will live in a distant universe. I will curse them all, I'm sure, but I will be living in my own constant.
I have become static in my own abyss. Frozen in time. My emotional pursuits have plateaued. I've found my niche. As no one knows me now know one will know me tomorrow or the week after. I am passive without remorse. I'll follow nothing but the mirror.
As blame is questioned, I will take some responsibility for the misanthropic transformation and subsequent demise. I was on a path so long ago. That I'll admit. But when reaching out, accepting words and actions, I became vulnerable. I took a leap with some, with many, only to find the mirror. So, as I take blame for what curses I brought upon myself, I also look out, at the hand I held out for others, and at the others, I look out, and have realized that what trusts were promised, accepted, were empty words and awkward looks.
That is individual life. We all have demons. We all must do everything to take care of the self. We are not children. No one truly puts themselves out there. They hold on to their own. They hold on to what makes them safe. It is their life and it is the only one they will ever have. I do not blame them. That is part of the realization. That is part of the misanthropy. That is the antithesis of humanism. It is not about the greater good. It's about the individual. No more. We do what we need to do to survive.
To survive. Some are content with distance, with hyperreality. Some can live at such distance. Some actually find depth in a perverse bastardization of existence. That alone defies and decimates humanism. Yet they call themselves humanists. Or spiritual. Or progressive. Or, worse, all at the same time. Yet they live in social networks, texting environments, inter-web falsehoods. They are consumed not by what is real but what they have been told is real. They are nothing but symbols, simulations. People unable to live in the blood world. An emoticon is not a facial expression. It is two pecks on a keyboard. It is a fallacy. It is the beginning of the end.
For that I embrace misanthropy. For that my transformation is complete. I will not compete. I will not trust. Not because people are untrustworthy. In fact, I believe their are intentions are pure. But their intentions are borne from selfishness. From selfsurvival. That is not a criticism. It is a reality. And it is a reality I am prepared to accept. I will not insult others anymore. I will not put them in a cave. I will not dance shadows in front of them. I will not dare to presume any form of ignorance. I will simply nod from a distance. My dance with them will be robotic. Nothing more because that is what existence has become. I am two-dimensional now to all but the mirror. That is my misanthropic cave.
It’s just something I knew I had to do. The transformation is complete.
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