I live within the whole. The whole is a paltry, uninteresting, weak existence that thrives off regurgitated tales of morality and sensibility. Falsehood is only falsehood because the meaning, word, and reality of it was invented. Every last bit of humanity is an invention and a standard that most follow blindly because it is told to be right and proper. And even the improper or immoral is just another standard of supposed rebellion or lifestyle that is a part of the whole. As I develop my ideas now I am controlled by the whole. Even as I try to disprove I am just a slave to it. What is real if real isn't real, and if everything is real than what is not. Professing anything radical further bounds me to the roots of previous thought and stagnate ideals. While floating in complete absence of thought I realize thought is as real or unreal as the whole. There is no rebellion that can break free from the whole without eventually becoming a component in it. How can there be reform or visionaries when both are constricted by the whole, yet still both excite me because at least it is a push of some kind away from the rules that are placed upon our lives. My opinion is not of that of a misanthrope but only a final conclusion from an individual that is a part of the whole. I have viscously struggled to release myself from it and have regrettably dragged myself further within it. In retrospect I realize these thoughts will one day be defined as cliche or mediocre. Yet what more can one do but express themselves in the limited sense that is allowed.
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