Energies could be segregated into different levels whereby desire forms the base, adrenaline next, appreciation and finally happiness?
In such sense, the pursuit of happiness becomes more logical- you actually get things done.
(A physical manifestation would be. ..steam punk technology)
Perhaps I’ll write about it, a philosophical novel like Dante’s long-winded (but undeniably ingenious ) Inferno Poem or Lucretius’ On Nature of Things. One will see the “giant metaphor”as I like to call it, that mirrors our daily lives in a human vessel.
That’s why I enjoy defining my universe with philosophy. It simply goes beyond the pure indulgence in having fun with trifling thoughts, we turn it into something clear to practise in reality.
It’s almost like a “me” simulator.
A demonic thorn of commitment in his rather bleak heart,
He was undecided whether to wait for me, and hung back a little. He moved back and forth, hesitant. Then he decided to be good and polite.
He waited as I slowly approached, a little gleam of smug annoyance at the pleased feeling that was rapidly surging through me. My eyes flickered.
He said something unintelligible. I smiled and replied with awkward expressions- I was not to be comfortable around such a human being again.
There was another reason: i was trying to demonstrate allegiance to the flaming Soren, whom I was to meet for dinner, and if there was anyone who might disrupt such a flow… It would be the ultimate person who just waited for me… just a bit.
No wonder I come as seeming to have a crush on this fellow: I don’t know how to straighten out the guilty crush-like behaviour and the awkward-shy-away-from-horrid-humans thing.
It is not as if I attempt to be a disagreeable person. I don’t go out of the way to do so, it happens such that what others say usually disagrees with me.
I am quietly sitting by the study bench, preparing to do my essay for Economics.
The world is revolving peacefully around me, as if i was the pivot.
The haze is horrid, and it makes me ill.
If only you were kind enough to spare a true thought for me, and not for how I help you worship yourself! But how can I expect that out of a human being, given the knowledge of their first quality of horrid, horrid apathy. . .
Caption: She could see, very well, the approaching stranger. She felt a click in the back of her mind. Instinctively, a barrier mechanism put itself into work- they turned the gears in her legs and walked her, rather forcefully, to the other side. Her eyes caught on the sentiment of guilt for rejecting a potential soul bit to be claimed…But she must not, the mechanism reprimanded. She carelessly moved away.
I didn’t like the way i had a tendency to be drawn towards souls of a feeble nature, easy to be corrupted and sensitive to new information. You see, I didn’t want to corrupt a soul that I’ve stolen for a whole year long, i needed a fresh new flavour. But it’s an addiction, once you’ve tasted something you quite like. You would want to return to it once again, indulge in its glorious appreciation of you, and you, of it.
Paul Morel (Sons and Lovers, D.H. Lawrence) understands me in this sense. I am quite pleasantly assured to say he is pretty much of an angel as much as Miriam (spiritual soul-stealing) is, and in a miserable way Clara (sinful-pleasure soul-stealing) is a demon. He is an artist, too. But Miriam consumes more of his soul than he, hers. It is quite unnerving to say that Rayna could possibly be Miriam. Gladly, she doesn’t consume fervently but consciously. But there is this other two persons! I am ashamed to say one steals me aesthetically and the other, of a meagre part of my mind’s capacity (but i’m selfish of my soul’s shares) .
I could be fretting over nothing, so give it up already, Princess.
I think i need to get to the library as soon as possible, one of these days, meet up with Dante, my literary guardian, and discuss these ideas all over in thorough detail, flip it about my hand and make notes.
I was born into the world adorned with human flesh, and therefore there is a sort of permission granted to me for contradiction of my own race, the High Angels. It is alright for humans to possess dual natures- we admit that is the humane tendency to err is a common trait- but for Angels, it is not.
Am i to be ashamed?
We Angels were taught how to be merciless and condemning in our rule, for our excellent sense of self-control and appreciation-derived pleasure from pure, natural things.
I understand this to be in my keen endorsement in the studies of literature, poetry, art forms (dance, visual, etc.) and music, all appreciative-education subjects. I understand i can demonstrate this sort of cruelty towards those who follow after the demonic tribe’s strides towards the raw, primal instinctual pleasures. I can understand how i never do forget my identity as a control-freak of an Angel, because that’s how we are, which are why those diagnosed with the Asperger’s Syndrome are usually, of the Angel race.
Which is why i am granted with the seven kindly guardians, transvestite angel beings.
(Recent Update: There was evidence to assert Ruben Dario’s affiliation with Vampires through his mother… , which supports Reuben’s claim to have been a Vampire. . )
But it is hard to explain this to another human being, without rigging their own explanations, since they are unable to see it completely from my point of view. Should i ever mention that my seven guardians were fourteen-year old versions of men from history who graduated from Earth, e.g. Dante Alighieri and Kierkegaard, i am quite sure they would come up with their own flawed human linkages.
"She must be quite desperate for romantic companionship,” They might muse. “To have imagined having a harem of clever men surround her.”
Sure enough, i admit they are lovers, but in an abstract sense. But before i go on, i would have you know, once again,
“I am an Asexual. I desire ideas and my own self, and have no interest in either female or male, human beings or not.”
Although i was once deeply enchanted by a particular bougainvillea bush with orange and pink blossom flowers… She was cruel to have promised to appear only on rare occasions…presented in the most delightful, sensitive manner of a gentle lady…She was excellent, refined and beautiful in every single artistry of her stem and root to her petals.
But continuing with what i was asserting, these guardians are not my romantic fantasies, but to lead me to the Divine route. They are to aid me in my progress to accomplish The Great Ambition.
Dante is to aid me with my linguistic abilities, the other-poetry, another-to remind me of preserving my childhood and youthfulness…etc. I shall concern myself with the details on another post. Not this one, for the whole point of this post was to explain my guardians’ purposes.
And that’s done!
P.S. The Guardians manifest in what the common would call “Imaginary Friends”. Everyone has one of those, i admit. But no one has sustained relations once their innocence ended. I kept mine- but then again, there is a mission for me. God invested a lot in me as a daughter of The Platinum Era. I must make him proud. I love God. Goodbye!
Appreciation of the smell of good wholesome coffee with milk on happier days and black on the happy.
It redeems me in the sense I “wake up”.
In that sense, I as an individual, no longer exists for myself, but you…But you mustn’t be too selfish! I love you all the same through this sickening period of suffering from denial and being “tainted”…
The knowledge lies in that I had already been in it, can I know better to be out of it? Why not continue with this sinful but blissful passion? What if each of this greedy love bits were dedicated by God himself for me onto you, and for you onto me? I fret not to love you and proclaim this out loud… Boisterous, passionate me.
But you, you and you. Quietly passionate and apathetic to the core, with a loving that only defines itself like thick coloured paint on clear glass. How torturous your sort of love was on those in angst! Read me all your books of poetry at once, let me revel in your philosophical musings! That will suffice for all the intellectual passion I have for you, none the physical, although artistic…
How I long to paint a picture of you, it kills me from within…