Lacks in structure noted, wrote this quite quickly as the thoughts started to digest in my mind and once it was done i was reluctant to touch it. Thanks for reading.
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And this new breed, suckling on the teat of a beautiful illusion, buffered from the pain of their own misdoings by the comfort of the television age, their own materialism and immorality cleansed by the conformity of these qualities in a society that as a whole is willing to just forgive and forget with the promise of a much needed reciprocation. This is the epitome of today’s hypocrisy, an age that says the most and means the least, a people that are in tune with their own empathies and sense of decency and yet make a conscious decision everyday to ignore it. Who needs to actually care, when you can just say you do? The old world, if there ever was one, of honor and selflessness is dead, their crusades are an arbitrary chore taken up by the zealots of redundancy, for who needs a white knight when there is no longer any innocent maidens? We have become so good at rationalization, that reality is just a diminishing number of objective facts that we can’t convolute with our own minds, everything else is up for grabs if you can just find a good enough excuse for your own mind to swallow.
Dead is the old world and I will be the first to make my peace with it, but let reality reign at least. Don’t raise the hopes of those who are still mourning, in the stages of denial, naïve of the debasement of the universe. Do not lie to their face and feed them your subjective reality as if the words “I meant well” will be a comforting solace for the betrayed, the scorned and the ignored. Let them know you bought that car so women will find you attractive, that your talk of communist polity is simply ill-researched propaganda of your own intellectual individuality and that that dress is only to gain the attention of the lechers whose unreciprocated smiles will be encouraged only until you have fully banished your own personal insecurities. Let the world know the king of decency is dead and his vile brother, reason and self-indulgence, prospers on the back of his uniform support.
And yet even the truth is too much, for who needs truth when we can live in complete disrespect of all our supposed morals and ethics, and still keep the veil of the beautiful illusion clouding our minds from our true disgusting forms. That mirror which hangs on the wall outside your room only sees so far, and yet it is it that we turn to to decide if we look presentable to the world, as if our own dark, molested and empty hearts are irrelevant to how people see us. No dishonor is too great, no betrayal is too malicious and no pain caused is too deep that a dress or a car cannot conceal it. For once someone sees that ugly heart inside of you, it is so easy to escape back into the seemingly infinite lines of those who will not look too deep. And you can wash away your sins under the praise of those who purport to see your soul and yet only see through the eyes of that mirror outside your room.
Bask in your hollow glory, always one step ahead of the judgment your cruel hearts deserves, until the mirror changes its mind and all becomes unimportant. And even then die oblivious and content with the empathy you so brutally mistreated. Ignorance is bliss, and righteousness doesn’t have to be earned, it simply has to be believed. What a beautiful illusion our righteousness is, guarded by the ever-justifying tool of rationalization.
And yet the one’s who are most at fault are those who see all this and do nothing for we should be the ones to fight till our dying day for our own morality and others. And yet we do not, condemned to forever know our own hypocrisy, never being able to hide our distaste for the world around us and yet trapped within the very thing we hate. We sit like the comatose, watching as we cannot fit into a world that we understand and seeing our own hearts inevitably fathom to the very darkness which we condemn so vehemently. Doomed to be hurt and alone, wallowing in the righteousness within us that is so powerful and yet so dreadfully transparent to our own eyes. Ours is a hideous illusion, like a festering wound that consumes us, and rids us to a bed of helplessness, self-disgust and turmoil ever-lasting.
