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Conclusion(2)

Harry Haller

Panga Master
SPNer
Jan 31, 2011
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Can one go back to innocence, back to the womb, back to before it all started, I think not, as much as one would want to, really want to, what has been done cannot be undone, what has been seen cannot be unseen, and what has been felt cannot be unfelt

Factor into this the madness of living with ideals and thoughts so loftily high, tempered with desires and needs so disgustingly low and one has to accept that certain paths and states of mind are not open, not available.

Its 3.45am here, the sun will come up soon, and I will go foraging for chocolate and red bull, there is an old fat fox that loiters near where I park the car, he knows that the oriental brothel downstairs puts out offerings of food for the gods, and at this time will have moved onto the bins near the car, we have an understanding, call it mutual respect, both outcasts from society, both up and about at an ungodly hour, I have seen his eyes, they look like mine, sad, yet alive, and free, maybe he could have been home with Mrs Fox and their babies, maybe things did not work out for him, and he chose to be free, to forage, and run, and kill and eat, to laugh heartily at what other foxes tell him what passes for life, could he go back to Mrs Fox, would he want to?

Rick's words burned me because I cannot go back, they are unavailable to me, I will always be an animal with a thin veneer of human, and my most pleasurable and most painful moments will always be when the thin veneer gives way to what lies underneath, and as much as I patch it, cover it, stretch the skin so no trace of animal can be seen, it will always be painful, it will never flow, the happiest I have ever been is when I have shed the skin completely and been completely at peace as a savage, and although I have been happy stretching skin, covering up fur, deep down, I have always known it would only ever be temporary, its always temporary, sooner or later, the big wolf ears and teeth push through, and they always do, and then the exposure, the shock, and the horror for others to realise that all along, they were there, hidden by the now fading veneer of respectability,

I am 50 now, must I put myself through the torture of humanising myself till the day I die? I guess my next heart attack will probably be my last, do I want to die still stretching skin, still covering up fur, or do I want to die noble and dignified, regardless of what I am, for regardless what anyone is, if they present themselves as they actually are, then that is noble and that is dignified, I reckon I have 10-15 years left on this Earth, do I want to spend the next 15 years chasing an illusion, or accepting the truth,

I get it now,

The answers to these questions are all subjective. My personal answers are that the world should be just and compassionate. The small things include tender moments with loved ones and the joy of feeling the first drops of the first rain of the season. The big picture includes the environmental degradation of the Earth, the creeping threat of a technological police state and the eventual death of the planet.

I am like a child on the last day at school, looking at everyone else toys, wishing they were mine, I look at the above, and wish so hard it was mine, wish I felt like that, but I don't, and never will, as the cheery North London car dealer once said to me as I asked how much his jag was on the forecourt 30 years ago, 'nah mate, its not for you'

the best I can hope for is that at times, I will run with other wolves, not for ever, and not for love, but I will run with other wolves at times, and it will be beautiful, and then it will be over, but at least I will not spend each and every day pulling and stitching skin to hide myself, at least I will not chastise and torture myself each time a flap of fur filled skin shows through, or an ear pokes through, it is a sad charade, a pointless masquerade, for the sole purposes of being loved, and being able to love, nah mate, its not for you
 

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