ANTI-THESIS - DRAFT ONE

A long thought process, this. Started with a death that I felt nothing about, save for fear at a very personal level, not involving the world. Actually, it started pretty much before that, about a week, I guess, and I just had this little thought, a line that bumped into my head:

"existence is but a little more

than the absence of the same"

Fairly deconstructive, if you look deeper than the surface (although, I don't think you'd have to look that deep, really). But on the whole, it's an excuse. To me, 'living' has been but a sort of duel against the odds ('odds' in plural, I'm singular) and this new way of looking at things can mean two things at the same time, to two different people. There'd be the existentialist, who'd like to 'live' and live to the full and he (or she. No gender issue over here, but I'm a boy) would interpret this as a go-ahead and not get obstructed by obstructions because 'obstructions' are only at the other end in the concept of a 'free road', and what's an obstruction today can only become a free road, because that's what it's defined to be. Of course, this is just one party I'm talking about, while the other could take this to be a depressed state of mind that's like, "I'm only an inch from death and I'm feeling happy about it. How's that?!" and it's more like a challenge to oneself to get depressed because that's what one feels he (again, no gender issue) ought to be doing, so I guess you just do what you think you ought to, even the most emotionally constrained.

"Everest:

you're ever so low,

standing upon you, now

there's nothing to score;

filling the seats,

in fighting ignominy,

there's just too much

of being, in being, to be;

I want my house to stand, still:

I go easy on the tilt;

not a sound louder than my mind,

but it's alright, it's alright;

a figment of freedom,

a bit of outside when within,

I know I'm already out, but then

I'd only find my way in, again."

First-up, I think my writing sucks right now and that I shouldn't go ahead with it until I'm sure I'd like it, because hating oneself is not the most desired thing to be doing. At least, to me.

On my part, though, this is pretty much an 'Anti-Thesis', but I do not know to what. Maybe it's a counter to myself, to whatever I've felt and I'm just thwarting the genuinity of feelings, maybe I'm telling myself that this is all there is, like how Matthew Pitt concentrates the universe to a point, with the thought-provoking monologue in Bertolucci's 'Dreamers', and I do not really know what I get to gain or lose from this.

I'd let you know when I'm anywhere closer to sure, but then again, what's 'sure'?