I Wish I Didn’t Know.

Read till the end.

This is a one-take spontaneous blog.

You'll realize the unhealthy amount of stream-of-consciousness in this.

It’s been a rough couple of months for me, I couldn’t think of something to write about or relish as I’ve been doing since time immemorial. Now I decided to write about my misery since it is the only hindrance that stood between me and my state of mind. 

But before, I want to reiterate my awe towards the ‘Unconsciousness’. This edifice that is so complex, that it functions in normal terminology the weirdo Freud used. Apart from his asinine sexist penchants, the dude’s a fucking genius when it comes to Neurology. 

It’s been two years now, since I have become able to find explanations to my dreams and Freudian dreamwork in general. Three days earlier, I have had one of the best dreams ever. I dreamt about my 6th grade teacher. She was a junoesque lady. Think of her relationship with other teachers, as that of Wollstonecraft against Burke, Milton and Rousseau all together. She was a smart lady, roasts all the time. I was her favorite student, her class was something I’d do anything to be present at. I had my crush, my favorite teacher, and the best set of classmates all there. The day of the dream, I’ve had a daylight existential crisis, and I decided to check some of my primary school classmates (yearning for the past is something I do to attenuate pain- I’m a sad-fuck ik), skimmed through them all. While I was dreaming, my brain was condensing some of the faces, while replacing other ones. This whole process, sprouted one of my beloved teachers. I’m still bemused by that vivid dream I had. It literally exhibited her face with precision and artistic proportions. It was such a classicist chef d’oeuvre. Today, I’ve asked some of my friends to dig in the crates, ask teachers and everyone who could have info about her, I’m this weird!

Now let’s talk about the real problem here. 

As the title suggests, 

I wish I did not know.

I'm trapped in a tale of woe and hedonic treadmills ( I literally dreamt about huge treadmills falling over me two days ago), drenched in my pain again (yeah that was Green Day I’m quoting, stream-of-consciousness fuck off! now) *disappears*. I’m spending sleepless nights reading philosophy, contemplating haikus, listening to music and dispassionately binge-watching tv-shows.  I’ve never been a fan of Cioran’s excessive pessimism, but one of the things he noted ricotchets to me lately. A surplus of rational thought, is the greatest torment of mankind*. (Let’s make it humankind, I’m sick of them sexist binoculars so-called scholars put on to look at the world as if women aren’t there, and also because I’m a brainwashed gender studies, student. I kid, I believe in humans as equal no matter what difference they have, they are all fucked haha- in fact that difference is what makes it fun- see! if I go stream-of-consciousness mode I won’t stop IIISH, ugh fuck! Fuck u William James, V. Woolf and u too James Joyce for this) this is textual Tourettes, if you’re wondering. 

I wish I did not know (mild)

It sucks knowing that you don’t know. I realize that I sound dreary, but I’m in a miserable state. I can’t even think straight, yet ‘A normal life is boring’ was my favorite mantra. I’ve been horribly insomniac and depressed af, but I didn’t want to sound like postcolonial philosophers, bunch of whiners. (I kid, I kid, some of them make perfect sense, okay let’s put it this way, a professor made us hate it.)

I wish I did not know (assertive)

Why do I still think of this knowledge I acquired as something deleterious? I’m not saying that being aware of things is bad, but that surplus Cioran talks about is the ugliest part of the whole predicament. Perhaps I’m weak, which- to a very honest extent- is true. But aren’t we all though? do we actually have the capacity to interpolate all of the big ideas, and confront the majestical side of natural phenomena? this has only one answer, NO. Which means that we are all weak, inordinately weak. Miniature creatures with vast chambers of imagination in their brains. It’s just a question of hierarchical difference. Very much like Nietzschian view of morality is contrived, probably devised by the weak to equalize themselves with the strong. Nevertheless, these nuances cannot face the dreadful colossus of the universe. What would capitalists gain from their monetary/materialistic supremacy if natural causes go haywire?. This might sound like a reach, but it’s more or less an elephant in the room that we tend to eschew by looking away horizontally. We don’t want to acknowledge that we are weak, ironically enough, ontology have become an understatement. 

I wish I did not know (exasperated)

Okay. Why do I want to get rid of this? I tried stoicism, didn’t work. I tried digging in the crates, rekindling some old relationships, worked to a certain point. But I need something stronger, like valium, a Vicodin or an elixir of life to my dilemma. Having the cheat codes to life brought me nothing but doldrums and despair. 

That’s why from now on, I’m embarking on a modern-day journey of phenomenology. Not so long ago, I was shit-talking Husserl for trying to revive certainty in a directionless Western society, Sorry man, now I relate! Brining back that sense of intuitive meaning to oneself and the outer world, coming to grips with sensory experience and to terms with my past regrets, and bad relationships, is my new quest in life.

I wish I did not know.

I’m probably gonna regret this tomorrow, but hell with giving two shits about what people think. I still seek a sort of recognition though, but to them connoisseurs I know, chill we’re all in this plight together, stuck in its mud. If you realize, I’m not a whiner but at the least I acknowledge what’s wrong with me. Bottomline, I started writing this blog before dawn, the darkness got into me with its darkest thoughts, I took a pause and now after I’m beholding the lights and those beautiful birds warbling outside the window, I’m a little resilient. Proof is the next line.

When everything is over, when the worst has happened, there's still one thing left in Pandora's Box: hope.