Within the machine
Posted: Fri Nov 30, 2007 3:10 am
The warm aspects of humanity, which are so necessary to living this life as a full being, are again locked away inside the machine.
The machine is a state of being that I often times find myself in. It is much like being locked inside of a gigantic, impenetrable robot suit with a stony, emotionless demeanor... Its face is one of compliance and diplomacy, the screams from inside seldom reach the outside world, the tears never breech the barrier of its false eyes. Within this all is lost, I am lost.
The benefits of being within the machine are there of course - Reduced injury from the myriad verbal slings and arrows that come my way for being 'non-standard' i.e. abnormal, it hides my shameful being from others, it offers up minimal offense to others at my expense of course - but this is no way to live. Sometimes I wish I could release myself from this machination and be able to live life as a full human, with its numerous pitfalls and offenses to others, but that thought gets discarded when I recall how other people have brought about unbearable sufferings when I have ventured from it...
Maybe the ultimate answer is to integrate further, mesh fully and become the cold man that all the women around here seem to want, the steely statue that cares only for his own hedonistic pleasure... The ultimate trade off, sale of my kind soul for the ironic chance of finding the love others take for granted, but never being able to fully enjoy it due to loss of my being. It's some sort of protection instinct the women here seem to have - Bad man "Good, strong man, rock solid", Gentleman "Weak, flaccid, embarassing" - which I as a living anomaly cannot seem to grasp...
That's part of the reason I created the machine in the first place, as a sanctuary.
R
The machine is a state of being that I often times find myself in. It is much like being locked inside of a gigantic, impenetrable robot suit with a stony, emotionless demeanor... Its face is one of compliance and diplomacy, the screams from inside seldom reach the outside world, the tears never breech the barrier of its false eyes. Within this all is lost, I am lost.
The benefits of being within the machine are there of course - Reduced injury from the myriad verbal slings and arrows that come my way for being 'non-standard' i.e. abnormal, it hides my shameful being from others, it offers up minimal offense to others at my expense of course - but this is no way to live. Sometimes I wish I could release myself from this machination and be able to live life as a full human, with its numerous pitfalls and offenses to others, but that thought gets discarded when I recall how other people have brought about unbearable sufferings when I have ventured from it...
Maybe the ultimate answer is to integrate further, mesh fully and become the cold man that all the women around here seem to want, the steely statue that cares only for his own hedonistic pleasure... The ultimate trade off, sale of my kind soul for the ironic chance of finding the love others take for granted, but never being able to fully enjoy it due to loss of my being. It's some sort of protection instinct the women here seem to have - Bad man "Good, strong man, rock solid", Gentleman "Weak, flaccid, embarassing" - which I as a living anomaly cannot seem to grasp...
That's part of the reason I created the machine in the first place, as a sanctuary.
R