Welcome to Daedalus' Labyrinth
This blog has been created with the intention of posting online some ideas, points of view, histories, stories, tales and anything else that its creators want to write about.
The posts will be signed as from "Daedalus" or from "Uranus", therefore, differenciation will be easily noticed.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
My Early Summertime Molten Core
How am I feeling tonight?
That should be answered as if no one would read, judge or criticize it.
It's like the atomic lysergic energy I've felt twice in my chest before.
It has to be spent, it has to be used, it has to be released, it's overwhelming, it's a will to scream, to live, to shake things up and down; I'm yet restraint from doing that by my fear and social convention.
It's like I have a wild spirit inside of me that is caged into a pathetic routine of civilized perfection. I want to feel out of my shell, and it seems that the farther I get is never far enough.
Life is a succession of victories, each one of them leading you towards another battle, the next one, and so on until you're relentlessly stranded, thus being unable to step forward.
I constantly ask myself: "what comes after? and what it all comes down to?" I am naive and I am intoxicated by these useless questions; it's the ultimate failure of evolution the rational ability to dissect everything because it leads us into NOTHING which happens to be the answer, result and most acceptable conclusion for EVERYTHING.
It's humbling in a scary way how the more I learn, the more knowledge I acquire, the less I feel intelligent and educated. It's not even rational to think that way, it's like, the more I know, the more stupid I feel. For feeling so, perhaps stupidity has been inherent to me all along from the very start.
"I know nothing, but I suspect of many things"; whereas I'm currently living in a world where one must make oneself and others believe one's ideas, a foolish ploy, for a theory can be justified by a hundred supportive arguments and it can be completely falsified by a single logical contradiction.
I'm out of series, out of sequence, out of synchrony. I'm like a prototype that accidentally ended up on a store shelf and even more incidentally ended up being picked up and introduced in this world of sophisticated well-defined dolls. As a prototype, I am not complete, and for being incomplete, I am more than average, because I change.
I have a mold, but the cover is always missing and I just hope for it to be always that way.