I am sick of life. It's just nauseating. Especially when I realise life is just a stretch of space between the first breath and the last. And all that we do apart from the basics of eating, drinking and sex, is just to make life bearable.
Bearable. What an utterly ugly and depressing word. Fit for what we call our life. Even sex has to be spiced up to make it bearable when it is suppose to be enjoyable, especially with all the precautions one has to take and the limitations one has to consider. Pity.
We end up having to construct institutions after institutions to compose our lives into an order that is bearable for us. Competition after competition, the rat race which makes most people as kiasu as they can get, stringing them so tightly on the rack that a knife can slit them at just a touch.
Where is the sanity in this, fundamentally in those who have all their basic needs covered yet crave for more...to prove themselves? Blindness is an infectious disease everyone suffers from. We ignore the fact that we are the 'insane' ones to fill up this space between - a great emptiness as Yates puts it - with more and more.
Sadly, many of us would keep silent at this outburst of raw truth and then, arrogantly, shove this raw wound to the pitless bottoms of the fragile fortress of our minds so as to not be depress, frighten, or angry.
But, this is the bare truth - as naked and as mad as Shakespeare's King Lear.
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