I hate me because I loved that which was meant to kill the me that made the me. I look at the end and see reflections of the past.
Reflections poisoned by external expectations not necessarily poised at the well-being of myself but at the well-being of the supposed preacher of good. I look at me and say, is this how you’ve become?
Why couldn’t you be you? Why couldn’t you be the change by being the exception to be spat on? Who said spittle from the words of a zombie engrossed society is that which the victim cannot wear with armor?
Socrates, Jesus Christ, John Lennon, Titus Flavius, George Carlin, Peter Tosh, Eddard Stark, Mahatma Gandhi, Tyrion Lannister, John F. Kennedy, Kwame Nkrumah, Jon Snow, Christopher Hitchens, Friedrich Nietzsche, Grrrh, Brrrr, Frrr, were revolutionaries, outliers with significant interests because they wore spittle with armor. They chose to be they without the filth that comes with noise from the market place.
Today’s solitude could be tomorrow’s market place. However, the market place which happens to be entangled by the one leading it might not guarantee truth.
A man with good will is tempted to be bad when the subjects are exponential. You know why? Because those who do not want to think for themselves happen to revive narcissistic tendencies to the one doing the thinking. And such, my friend, is poison in itself.
Wear the solitude with armor, do not pollute you with the other, for the other has a path to follow. Shalom!
Achaab Daniel ABALANSA