I hadn’t realized what follows until I closely thought about it, and I hadn’t closely thought about it until I had acted otherwise than it. I hadn’t acted otherwise until some strained twig had broken the back of my mind. This twig, from one path fallen, added to me some pressure of existence, some feeling that something “should” be done. This otherwise was only a breath of air, and it has made all the difference.
I say it loud and I say it absolutely – I want to be heard. But what is it that I want to say? Merely what is given to me in my experiences. And why do I want to say it? First, the satisfaction of being heard is its own end, because in my ears rings the tone of others’ voices sweet when I write and speak as I feel. Second, I dare say, there is nothing else for me. My only satisfaction is my recognition, and without this I feel like a loaded lie. Perhaps this latter is infantile, but it is truth – only in discursive recognition do I feel alive – everywhere else I am dead.
To life!
misteramazing 