It is rude to steal hope
from a little girl. When a child builds her own convictions, they are
frail and delicate. Like a teddy bear. If you come up and say
something like: “you are the projection of your brain” or “our
existence is the hallucination of a socio-cultural machinery
connected to your nervous system”, you are precisely a cruel
monster. You are stealing a teddy bear from a little girl. Shame on
you!
Hope is important. But
step by step, you have the coup d'etate of hope. Hope becomes a
nightmare, the nightmare. Your little girl brain starts to project.
With her teddy bear as lieutenant, he's launching himself in
grandiose building ventures. He builds bridge to a place called
future, the scaffolds his imagination with new development. Always
for tomorrow, always towards the place that is not here.
It's good to escape the
brutality of desperation. When your flesh is burning in torment, it's
good to thrown your tortured body somewhere else, pouring some fresh
illusion on the smoking wounds. That's good. Nonetheless, your place
is here. Hope makes you dreaming away. I love dreaming. I love
drinking. I love hoping. Yet it's not hope you need. It's presence.
Your brain is here. You are here. Is it a hell? Come on! I don't
believe that. You need bridges for nowhere. Is it really a hell???
Ok. A demon is
pitchforking your guts? The body is a endless moan of pain? That's
the easy. Your presence to yourself is the sublime illusion. Take
away the mind from the pain and the pain will fade away. It must do
it. It's a pure nonsense, that your consciousness disappear and only
the pain stays.
No. The real problem is
the big emptiness. Every man will accept forever pain, if it's really
forever. Nothingness. This is hell. That your love, your memory, your
meanings, your values, your body, your arm, your eye. Everything.
Disappeared. Nothing. Not even crumbs. And hope is planting the idea,
that with good bridges, bridges very soundly built, somehow, you can
escape. Maybe only crumbs. Maybe only a ghost. But something! If only
the Big Toe, could manage to climb on the Hopeful Bridges. Maybe
later he could drag the rest. Maybe.
That's hell.
The hope that the Big Toe,
somehow will rescue from emptiness. That's insurance. And it's
cheating. Because they are rich and you are poor. Don't trust
insurance companies. Don't rely on the Big Toe of Hope. Hell is
there. With an actuarian. It's the teddy bear.
Now, you are a monster if
you take away hope from a little girl. But when you are the little
girl, with more than a tendency for drinking, a bunch of friends in
your head and no more clean underwear, that's the time to say goodbye
to the teddy bear.
Wait!
I didn't mean suicide!
Suicide is the Lack of Hope. Same family, same company. They work
together, they reinforce the same habit. Come back. Here is the
place. Presence is heaven. Realize that you are the emptiness. That
you are the centre of this vortex. The socio-cultural machinery
plugged in your brain is giving you the show. You are the show! And
it's empty! When you rely on hope, you give someone, somewhere else,
the joy of the show. No man! The show is here. Were you expecting
MUCH more? Who told you? Jesus? Stop listening the teddy bear:it's an
acturian. He wants your signature, but hope is blinding you for the
small writings. Small writings are your jail. Somewhere I fill my
place. Wrong. Here. Be present to yourself. Stop giving hope a
chance. Tomorrow is not different. Tomorrow is here. Hope is
desperation with a wig. Be decent, put away the wig. Breathe.
Desolation all around? Maybe. Let's crack a joke on the ruins. It's
healthy to play tricks to the crows and to hyenas. Loads of laughs.
Breathe, again. Be centred, be yourself, be here.
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