A Palpable Hedonist

The world is inseparable to human errors... too much pain, too much suffering, and too much torture. Yet, it becomes existentially dreadful when the individual's conscience awakens to this phenomenon— almost a global flood that is found within the Book of Genesis.

I do understand it: hedonism. Greatly, it is of no mistake that these people pursue happiness. The realization that suffering and pain is too much to bear on this world. I, too, desire the paradise— but, should I wait after my death? By committing of what seems irrational to me in order to reach that paradise? I dare say that I wouldn't be allowed to. Then, a great idea occurred: to bring the paradise on Earth! However, I neither understood why they punished me, condemned me for trying to liberate myself of such anguish by being a hedonist!

'You filthy human being! Pursuer of sex and infidelity. You are no different than those of dogs and monkeys— you rascal and a pest to this community!' How could such foul language exist against me? It's false. Such prejudice. Do they think they stand above of morality than me? Such foolishness. Do these people not notice how evil they are to which they conclude they are doing the society a favor by spouting such harsh, cold, callous language that enormously wounded my feelings?! I am, too, a human being! How dare they treat me like a piece of shit? I just want to be understood; to be part of the community... it is not of my choice for these misfortunes was bestowed upon me by the world itself. It is inevitable...

Why is it a punishment to enjoy the gift of God? A life that he gave upon us; and this is what those people who possessed of such gift did to me? I am starting to question on whether it is of God's gift to birth of the few and the Devil's gift to birth of the many. A continual insults thrown every morning at my windows and door that persists until the very evening.

These continual beration, belittlement occurred everyday! I've asked myself both day and night, 'What did I do to deserve this?' I am merely trying to celebrate the joy and gift of my existence, and this is the punishment of pursuing happiness? I... I don't understand. I... I was being myself. I... it is indeed truth, the assertions made by Schopenhauer: Evil is just what is positive; it makes its own existence felt. The emotional scar they inscribed on me; the physical injuries of stoning; and, to this day, I have yet to understand their motives. But, all I know is that they are blinded to their faults— of such evilness.

My joy... my own being was robbed away from me. My very own hands dug its own grave, and I— the only one— attended its burial ceremony. The rain droplets gently caress my face as if it's saying, 'You will be okay,' as I've looked up to the dark, stormy cloud; as I've mesmerized the sensation of the dead persona I once had. Somehow, a new joy found its way to my core: witnessing my very own death.