Learning to discern the fine line between due effort and unnecessary pain is a type of art by which fashionable human behaviour seems rudimentary or obsolete.
Little do old philosophies and popular ideals beget before the face of one who is maddened with a reason to be himself when fundaments do nothing but drown and suppress.
Neither humans’ factual nor romanticized nature can stand between his essence of being and its realization, although some may disagree.
A question to ask often would be, “To what extent am I myself, and to what extent am I the product of something or somebody else’s puppetry?”.
A puppeteer needs not be the common fiend we like so much to incriminate, externalized or dwelling in the crevices of ourselves – consciously enacting the ways of vileness, or obliviously carrying on the motions of pre-ordained mandate.
The collective’s and the individual’s torment are loftier and more complex than words can articulate.
And he who has neither knowledge of the world nor of himself little can avow, contemplate, or rage against to see his boons or change his own predicament.
And on he goes, collecting chains from all the sources he has entertained, as well as consolidating those already dragged to his own strength or detriment.
Whether we are the armchair taster of ideas or the living incarnation of the knowledge we acquire, there is more to find beyond the layers of anything which we may lay actively or not our eyes or any other organ of awareness upon.