the Truth

in all hOnesty, i hate biOlOgy. nO, nO, that's nOt right. i abhOr biOlOgy with every sinew, every fiber, and every atOm in my bOdy. that's better. i lOathe it, yet i am still cOmpelled tO devOte my fOurteenth blOg tO it.

i begin tO think i am lOsing my mind.

I begin to tire of it all--the act that my face insists in putting on even though my brain has told me so many times that it is not, and never will be, me. I want to see the charades shatter down to the shards around me; but when I close my eyes, all I see is the back of my eyelids, and when I open them, I see only what the little slits on the mask permit.

See, the teen angst disease has caught up with me. I feel as if I am being tortured by Atilla the Hun--external forces are ripping me apart at the limbs. I feel cold all the time, even when the thermometer says 101 degrees. I feel...

"All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the less of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick. He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it."

-Herman Melville

It seems to me these days as if the rOundness were all good personified, and thus to it I cling. Alas, I hardly know what to think anymore. The confusion rages a tempest around me, and the rOundness is the little rock at the eye of the storm--my one safe haven. There I can rest, free of the assaults, free of the fetters that adorn my mind--there I can be free.