Is it my misery that beckons you? Is it the pain that I
suffer that invites your eyes? Is it the torment of my daily life or the once
in the blue moon event that attracts your attention? Is it the muted cry of my
humanness that plucks wildly at your heartstrings? Or is it the weakness of my
being that encourages a look? What is it? What drives you to peer at my
destiny? What makes you realign your focus? Is it empathy? Or is it to
feed on my despair? Does that make you feel good about yourself? Does my
misfortune make less yours? Do my cries wash your selfpity away? Am I the
monster of your dreams gone ugly? Or am I the wretched soul that gives you
comfort that you are not me? Where are you, at?
Or is it the art of tutoring? The fawning over tragedies
that make for a resonating vibration, which has the magnetic pull since the
invention of the written word. Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Macbeth and Romeo and
Juliet, enjoy more recognition then comedies like Midsummer Nights Dream and
Taming of the Shrew. Or is it the constant chatter of the pain of loneliness,
the sense of ostracism from an inwardly turned society or just a game of the
mind. Or do the far away Roman prisoners fighting for their lives idealized in movies, in the
Coliseum bring forth the unholy desire to peer at a similar carnage?
Is it my fame that calls your attention? Is it my material
trappings that invite your disdain? Is it my knowledge or my intellect or lack of it that
triggers the belligerence? Is it the soft-spoken nature of truth that undoes your
passionate anger towards success? Is it the blind rage towards the goals that I
have achieved or desire? What is it? What drives you into this riveting narrow focus of
hate directed towards me? Am I the monster that quashes your ego? Or am I the
beacon of truth that you wish to demonize? Or is it my soul that I have
carefully crafted over my lifetime to succeed that governs your wrath? What
makes you greave in fits of anger directed at my visage that haunts your very
being? What gives you such vehemence?
Or is it the greed and jealousy of a few that fan the flames
of hate of the many, cloaking their better angels? Is it in us or is it inbred?
Is it Darwinian or Lamarckian? Or is it the implied flow of human emotions
festering like a sore sprinkled with salt? Where does this pain of greed originate
that feeds and simultaneously bleeds us of our better self. What nerve root,
what impulse, what receptors deliver and receive these poisoning emotions?
These are the questions that tear a soul apart. These
questions force an inward look. These are the questions that change life. Answer them and then look at yourself. Answer them quietly in the comfort of your being
and you will change – for the better. They will force you into a place where superficial comfort is not given entry. It is a lonely place, a place of horrors, of soul
mutilation, of ego deflation, of ghostly demons, of the id forced beneath the
murmurs of human thought. Go there and look deep and what might emerge is a pure soul. The soul of a human! The oneness of being! The solemnity of
truth!
You!
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