Dear Reader,
I am a fool. That might be nothing new to you, since it seems like many people are that way. I am also stupid for challenging my foolishness. This too is not a novelty. My case is not unique either (at least that's what I like to think), however I have neither the company nor the confidence to discuss this matter in my real life. So I have decided to resort to the internet to solve it.
My problem? I call it the curse of the idol. While nowadays I'd like to fashion myself as a person who respects the religions, traditions and greatness of God (however you want to call him: Zeus, Brahma, Allah, Heaven, etc.), I fear however this might have not always been the case. It might have happened when I was younger or - like it is believed in Traditional Chinese Medicine regarding the appearance of disease - maybe a couple of life times ago, but it seems to me that my souls prior impiety has angered an angle or lesser being to the point that it cursed me. This is the aforementioned curse of the idol - not a curse by the hand of God, since it seems to be not as potent. I know that it isn't as powerful since it is only effecting one specific part of my life (I don't want to go en détail into it, but if you read between the lines your sharp mind will figure it out. I believe in you).
The curse manifests in a sort of very specific strain of bad luck. It looms over me (side note: This expression always reminds me of an interview I watched with Jorge Luis Borges who loves the English language for both its dual vocabulary and its use of prepositions) like a dark cloud ready to pour down on me just in the right moment. I know what kind of moments these are and yet it always hits unexpectedly. As if my mind is obscured to the reality surrounding it and then BAMM - it hits me like a car crash. And it makes me equally as emotional (Maybe this is also the reason why I call my condition the curse of the idol instead of talking openly and clearly about it. Maybe there is a sort of emotional barrier in my brain that prevents my mouth from speaking and my hands from writing it as it is. Maybe people might also not take everything as serious as I feel like it is...yet again it probably isn't as deep...I guess you see my very unsure personality here shining through, my dear Reader).
Recently I had a little chat with my older sister. She was talking about her favourite painting: The scream by Edvard Munch. She loves its rawness and madness. In her opinion great art always requires a little tragedy and pain. Not to elevate myself on the same pedestal as Munch - I'm far from being a great artist! - but I am suffering - albeit probably not deeply or psychologically - and so I hope this blog will become a piece of art of some sort. I do write professionally, though it is non-fictitious research. And additionally English isn't even my first language. This blog will function as a personal journal of sorts, so you will find everything here more a kin to a stream of thoughts. It doesn't matter, if anyone will ever read this, but maybe, just maybe, there's someone out there who can help me banish this curse and restore peace to the spirit of the idol I (apparently) have offended. So please, feel invited to join me on this journey.
Kindest regards,
Wincent
Comments
Post a Comment