Thoughts On Things

Entry 32

I am not sure what my, or anyone else's, life goal should be; nor do I think myself old enough to have one set in stone. However, I have always appreciated beauty. Not the beauty of the body, in particular, but the beauty of the mind, the personality, the person etcetera. Though, that is not to say I do not appreciate the beauty or handsomeness of some bodies. 

I will now think about, talk about, write about, what I consider to be a beautiful soul - from here on, I will use the word soul to describe the personality, mind, memories etc of a person, though I do not believe in such a thing. 

First of all, I believe that beauty should be without hypocrisy. I think hypocrisy is impure, ugly, and thus, the lack of it is beautiful and pure. I find that, when I consider it in my mind (for the mind, after all, is a much better judge than the senses), the angry drunkard who is honest about his feelings and lacks any sense of hypocrisy is much more beautiful than the average man who has many hypocritical thoughts in his mind - "Oh I do hate those drunkards... I shall wash out my sorrows with a drink," "How I hate those sexists who treat women so despicably! Mother, it's been 2 minutes since I demanded my meal, where the hell is it?!" And other such thoughts and actions. Now, there is no need for this hypocrisy to be out loud for it to be ugly; it is much the same, perhaps worse for no one can correct them on it, if a person thinks to himself that he dislikes such and such a thing and then later on does exactly that thing. So for my first guide to a beautiful soul, purity, or a lack of hypocrisy (I must thusly consider myself quite the ugly duckling at the moment, for I often find myself getting so terribly angry and being so demanding of my family, despite hating such a thing in my mind).

It's been a few days since I wrote the previous segments, and I can't be bothered to continue them, but I'll leave them there, for there's no real point in deleting them.

"Oh, to lay mine eyes upon your crimson lips; to let my gaze rest upon thy frail body! Oh, oh, oh, my love, what is heaven but indulging in thy view? To indulge further would be more than any man could handle; the punishment for doing so would be hell - and it would only seem so much worse after the heavenly experience! Though surely that very experience, nay, even one word, one nod from thee could provide a man with the power to endure hell a thousand times over! Oh, my love, ye must be a falsehood!"

I was once in love, a childish love, but a love nonetheless. And surely more powerful, more pure, more true, less tainted than most loves, nay, most lusts that disguise themselves as love. For it could not be impure, given my age, innocence and ignorance. Even though she was in a relationship with a very good friend of mine, it was still surely pure. I would do anything for her, for love; I ate stinging nettles and leaves on her whims, childish, free-from-malice whims in games of truth or dare. I was at her beck and call all day; ready to speak about nothing important outside, to lie next to each other in my Garden of Eden, staring at the sky that seemed so beautiful when I was with her! Ah, now I look back fondly on those days; even the embarrassing one where her suspicions were confirmed by my friend - that I "liked" her, as children tend to put it; though their "likes" and "like likes" are surely love greater than most utterances of "I love you." Alas, we drifted apart with age, and though I've liked people since, I've never loved; though life is long for someone as youthful as me (God willing, of course), so I could fall in love again in the future; though, as I'm no longer so ignorant and pure, the very idea of love has become tainted - I've become cynical. Though, cynical as I may be, I surely do love people, or wish to, best I can - I'm not religious, and certainly not a Christian, but I do agree that we should try to "love thy neighbor, love thy enemy." Then again, I have no real enemies, just those I dislike... perhaps I'd prefer an enemy who hated me to my face, rather than one that kept me guessing; "Are we friends," "Should I like you," "Do you like me?" Such questions make me feel like I'm in some sort of odd Trial.