The first thing you must know about me, is that I am not the self-righteous prick everything seems to think I am. People believe my words to be the ramblings of a madman, but this simply is not the case. What they see as crazy talk, I see as an attempt to rationalize this insane world we reside in.
As a society, we have been reliant on basing our views on what is deemed logical and moral. For instance, a man would obviously, in most cultures, be imprisoned for taking his dagger and sliding the blade across the throat of another man. This action would obviously be frowned upon by most. However, people like me enjoy going a step further. We take a step back, and view the situation on a more advanced level, digging deeper than what is apparent on the surface in order to discover the ultimate truth.
The reason why determining what is right and wrong in society is a tricky matter is due to the fact that morality itself is inherently subjective, thus what one might consider awful in America, such as, say, a grown man forcing his way inside of a 14 year old child, might be thought of as appropriate in many cultures in Asia and the Middle East. Logic is what I use to determine whether or not I should go through with an action. Allow me to elaborate.
Logic itself is objective. I value that highly. Such a thing can be applied to subjective matters in an attempt to determine what decision produces the most well being to the most amount of parties. Such a thing is analagous to me placing a gun to my head, pulling the trigger, and blowing my fucking brains out, spraying the wall with blood and gore produced by my useless fucking body.
Oh, my apologies for rambling once more. I suppose this is the reason I'm not fun in a conversation. Allow me to eleborate on my previous point. It is logical, presumably, to take your own life should the circumstances be right. It is logical to do so in the case that you had, hypothetically speaking, commited atrocious actions in the name of consistency in order to sustain your belief in cold hard truth and knowledge outweighing emotions. Facts don't care about your feelings.
It isn't a matter of teenage edge or anything of the sort. It's a matter of calculating whether or not your life would be worth living after the destruction of your reputation, social life, and any future oppurtunity which may have ever been presented to you. Let's say that, theoretically, a man is sitting in his room, gun to his head.
He can't bring himself to shoot.
Memories of the horrid crimes he had committed flow through his mind. Not horrid objectively, no, but as a definition society uses to label him from their own arbitrary beliefs. He places the knife to his throat, the noose to his neck, the poison to his lips.
He hasn't the guts to follow through with the actions he wishes to do. He knows damn well of what he knows is true, and yet even the power of truth and knowledge itself isn't enough to guide his actions. At the end of the day, he knows that there was one mistake he made when acting upon his inner thoughts. Cold and calculating as ever, he realizes the one truth that would be his downfall.
Society always has the last laugh, because it is the subjective view the majority holds that will prevail.
And so sitting there, rambling and mumbling to himself after his capture, the man in the suit who represents the authority chosen by the people, for the people, stares at the other, anger in his eyes.
He lays down several sheets of paper on the marbel table seperating the two men, the words on the paper illuminated by the overhead lamp.
The conversation to follow doesn't last long. The subjectivist who follows the minority confesses to his actions, for in them he sees truth and freedom. The subjectivist who thinks he is in the right, more so than the other man, nods his head and seals the minorities's fate. A fate brought about by the beliefs of the minority, which were now being infringed upon by a random, seemingly oppressive majority a society which only deems itself right because it says it must be by its own word. A circular argument at its finest.
The bodies that lay in the wake of the man incarcerated for life. The cum and blood and tears that cover his victims. They call me insane to defend such a man. They call me ignorant. A fool. I call myself what I truly am. A man who is bound by the selfish desires of society to maintain control over those like us. Those who would use logic and reasoning to define a society and the actions made within one, rather than appealing to emotion or authority.
Maybe someday this will change. Someday, we shall be able to walk free, perhaps. Not on this day, though. No, we stay hidden in the shadows for now, hidden from your abusive, judgmental eyes.
I hope you are happy with your choices. You sicken me.