When waiting for all that is to come, I like to sit down and think through that future which eludes me in sight. The possible outcomes of not doing what is expected, of doing what is by definition "wrong", or courageous. It all seems so vividly colorful and promising at first glance. And when that day comes, nothing really is as it was supposed to, for that simple reason of not having control. Realizing that the strings built up in my mind always are wrought down by the simple expedient of mental control over all that is around me. It's simple really, I, perhaps we, need to stop overanalyzing.
But that is where the problem arises. I would interpret an intellectual being as one who has the ability to properly think in an analytical fashion. So for me it isn't quite so easy as to say to myself to just, "go with my gut". At least in a way that would be considered truly spontaneous, or perhaps in some matters of social conduct, acceptable. In that I cannot decide upon one or the other without large portions of deliberation of what to do, or say. I am, by most definitions, a social pariah. It all comes with a great bit of self indulgance to be able to view myself in this manner.
That thought, that singular notion of me, me as an individual is the single greatest resource I have in the struggle to manufacture an idea of what we, as human beings really are. And that makes me more than happy to be the social pariah. Or atleast to act as one. Life has become a spectator sport for all intents and purposes. I suppose I am in the hunt for truth, however self serving, however inconsequential, I need that sense of reason. Even if it is a sort of intellectual masturbation.
I think the end result can only be this: I believe in summer.
And I believe in the birth and death of day.
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