*I didnt write this, but its one of the best peices ive seen written, and ive seen a lot. If anyone knows who wrote it, please mail me.. so i can get in contact with them and also post the name here as well.*
FOUR YEARS
In his book, A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess compares our childish morality to a clockwork toy. We are wound up and set loose. There is no why for the things we do. By slamming into the walls that surround us, we learn our boundaries, until, as adults, we eventually gain the capacity for true moral choice. Over the last four years, I have found many of these walls, most of them painfully. This is the story of who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be.
Four years ago, life was simple. My life consisted of video games and books. I remember reading the Legends trilogy by Margaret Weiss freshman year. In the book, there was a character named Raistlan Majere, a magician. He was an outcast from society who struck back. He was arrogant, cynical, and powerful. His strangest trait was his eyes. They were shaped as hourglasses, and through them he saw the decay and death of all things. I thought I identified with his character. I was convinced that I possessed a superior intellect, and I lorded it above everyone. I thought myself wise and worldly. My goal was to learn everything there was to learn. I somehow also considered myself strongly Catholic, probably because I went to Mass once a week, or perhaps because I was convinced that I had been singled out by God for some great purpose. I saw myself in the future as a doer of great things, a leader of men, or a killer of them, as war was a great and glorious endeavor. I was to be a leader of men, but at the same time, I had no need of others. To me, love was a weakness that ruined two otherwise good people. I had a reason for being better than everyone. Some people smoked or drank, and I despised them as subhumans. Some had sex, and I thought this was bad impulse control. Some weren't devout Christians. They were the "lost sheep" I'd heard so much about. My morality consisted of rules that proved my superiority to everyone else. I invited to world to "Bring it on". It took me up on the invitation.
The last four years seem to have disproved everything I once believed in. I still read, but for the first time, I am beginning to understand what it being said. In my quest to become Raistlan, I almost succeeded. I now see the world through hourglass eyes. Everything I was once sure of has now abandoned me. I lost my faith first in religion, then in God, as I saw the things that have been done in the name of both. I fell in love. My arrogance refused to allow this weakness, and I threw away my chance. In the end, even my knowledge abandoned me. I found that the more I learned, the less I knew. The very knowledge I sought was too much for me. Machiavelli destroyed political idealism, Vonnegut exposed the folly of war, and Pink Floyd taught me the value of a good wall. I know stand alone upon my pedestal, watching. I see the world dying. I see it in politics, in religion, in the daily papers, in the faces of people around me, in myself. The bright side has been lost to me. I see everything only in shades of black. I am a dweller of the dark side. Sex and drugs are no longer a taboo, but an escape. I have lost my faith, hope, and love. Or perhaps I never had them.
I see my future branching out before me. I see a time approaching when I must choose between escape or confrontation. I have visions of my future. In some I die young, alone, without hope, looking for freedom within a needle or a bottle. In some I choose to become that what I am not. I marry for the sake of marrying. I have 2.5 kids. I work in an high rise office in a big city. I jump out of the window. In another, an white bearded old man lies dying. He is surrounded by friends, and perhaps children. He was a poet. He helped those around him. He loved and he laughed and he really lived. The world is a better place because he lived. He dies without regret because he was not afraid. He turned and fought the dark things that chased him, things that lived within him. He won.
FOUR YEARS
In his book, A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess compares our childish morality to a clockwork toy. We are wound up and set loose. There is no why for the things we do. By slamming into the walls that surround us, we learn our boundaries, until, as adults, we eventually gain the capacity for true moral choice. Over the last four years, I have found many of these walls, most of them painfully. This is the story of who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be.
Four years ago, life was simple. My life consisted of video games and books. I remember reading the Legends trilogy by Margaret Weiss freshman year. In the book, there was a character named Raistlan Majere, a magician. He was an outcast from society who struck back. He was arrogant, cynical, and powerful. His strangest trait was his eyes. They were shaped as hourglasses, and through them he saw the decay and death of all things. I thought I identified with his character. I was convinced that I possessed a superior intellect, and I lorded it above everyone. I thought myself wise and worldly. My goal was to learn everything there was to learn. I somehow also considered myself strongly Catholic, probably because I went to Mass once a week, or perhaps because I was convinced that I had been singled out by God for some great purpose. I saw myself in the future as a doer of great things, a leader of men, or a killer of them, as war was a great and glorious endeavor. I was to be a leader of men, but at the same time, I had no need of others. To me, love was a weakness that ruined two otherwise good people. I had a reason for being better than everyone. Some people smoked or drank, and I despised them as subhumans. Some had sex, and I thought this was bad impulse control. Some weren't devout Christians. They were the "lost sheep" I'd heard so much about. My morality consisted of rules that proved my superiority to everyone else. I invited to world to "Bring it on". It took me up on the invitation.
The last four years seem to have disproved everything I once believed in. I still read, but for the first time, I am beginning to understand what it being said. In my quest to become Raistlan, I almost succeeded. I now see the world through hourglass eyes. Everything I was once sure of has now abandoned me. I lost my faith first in religion, then in God, as I saw the things that have been done in the name of both. I fell in love. My arrogance refused to allow this weakness, and I threw away my chance. In the end, even my knowledge abandoned me. I found that the more I learned, the less I knew. The very knowledge I sought was too much for me. Machiavelli destroyed political idealism, Vonnegut exposed the folly of war, and Pink Floyd taught me the value of a good wall. I know stand alone upon my pedestal, watching. I see the world dying. I see it in politics, in religion, in the daily papers, in the faces of people around me, in myself. The bright side has been lost to me. I see everything only in shades of black. I am a dweller of the dark side. Sex and drugs are no longer a taboo, but an escape. I have lost my faith, hope, and love. Or perhaps I never had them.
I see my future branching out before me. I see a time approaching when I must choose between escape or confrontation. I have visions of my future. In some I die young, alone, without hope, looking for freedom within a needle or a bottle. In some I choose to become that what I am not. I marry for the sake of marrying. I have 2.5 kids. I work in an high rise office in a big city. I jump out of the window. In another, an white bearded old man lies dying. He is surrounded by friends, and perhaps children. He was a poet. He helped those around him. He loved and he laughed and he really lived. The world is a better place because he lived. He dies without regret because he was not afraid. He turned and fought the dark things that chased him, things that lived within him. He won.
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