Life seemed to be pointless. Not life, but the life that I was use to live, the way that I found to relate in society: clothes, personalities, tastes, appearance… What is the importance of all this? I was feeling unwell, struggling to accept that. Something was wrong. I felt connected to tags and definitions by strings, moving my body as a puppet. Everything so mechanical…
How I was living my whole life in that way? Maybe i just haven't thought about that until now. The same way when we give to much attention to the blinking of the eyes. And then it gets really annoying. Waking up from the unconscious.
Actually I was very scary to take the next step, take the control of my life. What would consists in stop shaping myself, building a character based on external factors, give myself the power to be shapeless and penetrate in everything. That seemed to be the wisest option. The other option was assume my weakness and keep living that lie, pretending to be someone I'm not. I knew that this second option would hurt, as if a part of me was dying. A real part of me, the part that I couldn't understand very well, but I could feel it. Eventually I would forget about all that "crazy non-sense". Probably it was just a flash of enlightenment but on that moment I considered ignorance as a gift. Because life that way seemed to be suicide and death the only way of salvation.
Erik Schnabel
