I don’t care about anything, nothing bothers me, I am the stillness before the storm, I am the eye of a hurricane. You could give me anything and you could take it away; wouldn’t make a difference to me. I have given special attention to the ability to dominate my emotions: my human flame is encased in ice. My passions are eternally restrained. I can block out pain, I can make myself do anything. The void came to swallow me and choked. I am stone, I am immutable, I am alone: this is no way to live.
My life is dominated by my self-imposed inhibitions; when I permit myself, I have none but that is not usually the case. I am a human hidden in a machine whose purpose is to pretend to be human, what kind of life is that? Why did I choose this for myself? How did I end up this way?
Everything started when I hit puberty. I had a friend named Serinna (name changed), we ate lunch together and did all of the other things you do at school when you aren’t in class together. One day I was in my room (probably playing with legos) and basically decided I had a crush on this Serinna girl. My body and mind were englufed in hormones and I left childhood behind. Suddenly I saw sex everywhere, in the barely developed bodies of my peers and in those of older schoolmates. Eventaully I found it in my own body.
This sudden awakening was frightening. I read everything I could on the subject, the related encyclopedia entry on my Encarta CD, everything wikipedia had to say on the subject. I read and wrote erotica, watched the extremly limited and uninformative “maturation” material provided by my school (credit to the Republican Party) to no avail, God and the Devil raged inside me. On one hand was my desire to fuck every man and woman on the planet, on the other was my Christian duty to restrain myself, one I dearly wanted to fulfil.
My desire for control led me to take up meditation, I was thirteen. I meditated on a daily basis, mastering the ability to control my mind and body, to driect the flow of conciousness to suit my desire. Slowly control came, there wasn’t a thought that could get away from me. I was the Zen master.
One day came the news, we were moving, 2700 km away. Initially I took it like any other move in the past, “cool, I can meet new people!” but when the reality set in all of my carefully constructed self-control shattered into a million screaming pieces. I was enveloped in darkness, my brain filled with glass. I couldn’t escape, ghosts chased me everywhere. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t find my zen.
It took a while but eventually I made it through but I wasn’t the same person that went in, I was safely hidden behind protective layers of control and detachment that let me take the next few upheavals in stride. I became a mountain of solidarity. I was a mind remote controlling a machine and could not be touched. I made friends but didn’t care, my body cared; the physical presence that I directed through a world I had long abaondoned. My universe was knowledge. If I wanted to feel I had music, I popped songs like pills. Happiness? Pretty & Nice. Angst? Brad Sucks. Needed to remind myself how to be safe? Pornophonique. Music was my drug, it kept me human while I avoided everything that would do so naturally.
Today I am still that person, though to a lesser extent controlled. I’ve spent the last few years trying to break out of my self-imposed spiritual exile and fully engange in my existence, no matter how painful it might be, I don’t want to waste my existence on safety. Today I’m throwing out everything my carefully controlled and artificial self wrote and thought, I am that shadow no longer.
Tyler Durden once said “self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction…” What about self-destruction? How can something so clearly nihilistinc help me with my quest for true selfdom? Just like the unnamed narrator of “Fight Club” I have a Tyler. The only way I can kill him is by destroying part of myself.
I’m starting over, this time it’s the real me living my life.