This miserable view reminded me of Aboriginal x-ray art and Frida Kahlo's paintings... You cannot devoid death of beauty, indeed. Death also haunts me. It haunts me on the streets and even in the last fortress of my freedom - dreams. Dreams of ambiguous and disturbing nature. People stirring me to break the bull's horns so to help dogs kill it, a man slaughtering another to death like a pig before my unmoved eyes. Why? Why God? Why do you destroy my so far peaceful unconsciousness? Me, one of the many imperfect human beings waking up every morning with the same tormenting question: when will it all finally end? I wish it all ended. It - what is this "It"? What would I actually like to end? So easy to confuse it with sunshine. Pain? Pain caused by other people? How to stop them? How to end pain? You try, but you are helpless. You try to forget it and sometimes you make it, but here it comes again. Maybe avoid it? What if it happens to you even if you try to avoid it in helpless struggle to prove that the world and people are good? How to stop this pain then? How to stop the pain of this bird which fell from the nest or the claws of the predator that took it from it? Medicine? Can a surgeon put this bird back in one piece? Or can only dr. Frankenstein help? What was indeed Frankenstein's intention? Was it not purely egoistic? Were his experiments of resurrection from the dead not living examples of his own hideous, embarrassing and excruciating pain? The pain that we all feel so ashamed of showing off with in fear of someone else making advantage of us? In fear of not being able to stand it. Sometimes I think others who know our misfortunes would find us decent to kill ourselves as if only then our torment could become authentic to the outside world. Martyrology? The cult of self-torment? The cult of the relieving power of pain? Really? Do I have to end for the world to end? For the evil to end? What if my evil will be replaced by another? Is it not the question of scale? Is it not so that we need evil to differentiate ourselves from another as good?
What if there is just one world available to me? My world. Is it real at all? What if my death won't save the outside world? Is it real at all? At some point in my life I started to realize that I am not alive just as the world I was living in was not alive, not objectively real itself indeed, it could have been an illusion just as my world can be an illusion. It has ended before I have even came to it. It was destroyed by other people on whom I had no influence. It was destroyed because of me. Still it was also my world to be, though it never happened. The only world I could live in, though I never actually had a chance to see and feel what it was like. It seems like prehistory no scientist can really prove for granted. This prehistory is just a hundred or more more or less official hypothesis on life on earth in this period. Still they prove that the creatures living on earth here and now are descendants of dinosaurs. Seemingly innocent blue tits eat meat. People whom we would never suspect of evil, turn out to have done or even still do evil that goes beyond our imagination, that crushes our idealistic view of the world. Our world. Sometimes I have this disturbing feeling in interactions with other people that some of them actually push the limits between one another, because they would actually like to die themselves, they cannot stand the shame, the pain, the memory left by evil actions, no matter whether they have participated in them or whether they were their victims, it does not really matter, if you kill someone and stay alive or if you get killed and someone else stays alive, it is the same torment, in both cases it is just living dead. But what is eve more important they would like someone else to do it for them, because they do not have enough courage to do it themselves. They would like you to kill them or at least to hate them. They need to find yet more negative energy in hope of that it would help them to make up their minds, push them to action, make them realize something more or less abstract about their own lives. They do not realize that they do actually leave you with equally strong negative charge. A charge that you give back to the world in a completely uncontrolled way, but you can also redirect it on oneself. It is evil too.
Killing another is against social instinct, killing oneself against survival instinct, this bizarre motors driving our lives no matter how hard it turns for us to struggle with equally strong striving of this world for entropy. If you cannot kill a man, you can always torment them or eventually pretend that they do not exist. If you cannot kill yourself, you can always try to torment yourself or/and eventually become invisible. I you cannot cope with pain, you pretend there is no pain. It is just a question of scale. This way of dying and killing became so easy in this virtual era. A vicious circle of life and death. Something has to die for something else to come into existence. But how can a tree grow without roots? When I realized it, I started to feel like a piece of broken mirror floating in ether in search for missing pieces to put it all back together, but it turned out to be impossible, because these pieces gained just as I did a sort of self-consciousness, it all is a question of scale, even entropy is apparent, big constructs, families, societies, civilizations can fall apart into pieces which eventually gain independent intelligence and start to form yet new mirrors with other broken pieces in the senseless void of this world. However, how much can our hearts stand? If they can stand falling from the tree on the hard asphalt? How about our minds? What if we can be living dead? Psychological existence seems to be far more vulnerable than our hardcore physics. We can become mentally and socially dead, but our hearts can still go on beating.