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The Twin Edges on a Blade
While staring and speaking demonish into the flame of a lit candle, the thoughts of how to psychically manipulate it into a greater rage flittered through my mind. Immediately, the rational side dismissed the idea with dry logic; my thoughts alone cannot affect physical reality directly. It was then I started to wonder when I had stopped believing in magic. I knew when. It was when god and jesus and all the other deities of all the other religions were dispelled as myth - exposed as just mere fiction. It all became muddled, faith became an illusion, firm beliefs were byproducts of ignorance, feelings were mostly nonsense and so, that special way I knew everything was going to turn out right had evaporated. I had stopped believing in anything I associated with magic.
I breathe in the wisps of smoke emitted by the waning flame of the candle. It's poor design, a shallow wick surrounded by a mire of wax that when liquid, would eventually drown the desperately dancing flame out. Breathing in smoke always does a strange thing to me. It made me acutely aware of how hungry I actually am. Lethargy did much to slow the coming hunger pangs for the past two days, but the smoke has brought it entirely to the present. Unlike more unfortunate souls, I've never really been hungry before. Food, unless prepared to the degree of gourmet, never was appreciated. Now, barley and potatoes and rice and semolina go down, but it ever kindles my yearning for a nice juicy steak. Was this a comfort of a lucky childhood? I question the luck part.
I think I've gotten myself stuck into wasting away mode. I am surrounded by limitless potential, like a sea of fuel upon which I can siphon from. This sea which raises everyday, and ever do I thread in its current with depleting vigor. Its toxic saturates me. Once I've been submerged in it far too long and swallowed some. Its nature is to turn all to depend on it, to have to consume it. But I wasn't ready for it and like a sickness, fought it as it controlled me. Get real? Stop fighting it? Snap out of my fantasy world? I don't understand what those questions mean. How can you only see the world as only your immediacy? We are drowned in something far more complex, yet you only appreciate the visible. You talk about god and morality only to blend in. You do not want to understand not because you fear the truth, but because it isn't in fashion. You fear only being unable to conform. You fear separation from the flock.
The flock does so well. They are so quickly absorbed into their systems and the routines. Then, once entrenched in it, they become so obnoxious of their faith in it, to the point where they proclaim it is the only facet of reality and the only worthy form of living. Other mysteries the flock encounters in this immense world are adapted to their fragmented philosophy, resulting in ludicrous interpretations of what purpose is and worse; when applied into the human context, the question of who is more worthy. We are all tied to this for no matter our deviation, we are related to the flock. The degree that it affects us however is asymmetrical to the degree it needs us. In this regard, the ones who cannot tap into the flock shall wither. Nurturance toward those has and will therefore always be a test of true humanity.
Shall I survive this state? When is it that I will be overcome by the wax that I cannot burn? I wane but am not extinguished yet. However, I see my finality very near if I continue in my said state. Will I still exists as myself if I assimilate to survive? Then there is the possibility of help. My dinner of wheat products is starting to boil and my candle has gone out. Onto staving off hunger then.
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