passions

passions

Due to the natural cycle of experiences, learned behavior, revelations, depressions and relapses into either or, it seems rather clear why we want what we cannot have and want it not when we do achieve it. Age has everything to do with the matter, and only those who are able to grow prematurely, and enlighten the truths of the world to themselves as quickly, accurately and insincerely as possible are able to become prominent in this jungle of inhabitants. The passion must be insincere only by definition that those who are able to succeed in their passions by means of a philosophy that is precocious, must be insincere. Sincerity comes only when age matches with suitable mental health or state. However, this is not the case for many, and many are left not precocious, but rather late and tardy in this race for the quickest mental health, and I suppose there is where the balance fits. Is the ten year old which wishes to become a firefighter sincere in his passion? By any and all means, heavens no! He knows not of the firefighter's duties, calls, roles, hardships, training or even schooling, and thus by this measure he is precocious. But because age is a driving force stronger than most passions, by the time he is eighteen, he has learned that whatever his passion was is not no more because quite suitably, his mental age has changed. And yet, follow the boy which is able to keep his passion despite what his mental age becomes (and notice that this "mental age" is merely created by the self conscious rambling of his peers and elders), and see how far his passion will take him. My friends, it is a deeply rooted passion which drives diligence; passion which drives intelligent routine; passion which drives the hard work required to succeed; but only a passion which is able to supersede the mental age of his peers. Because in most cases passion falls on a tier lower than our insecurities and fears.

cigarettes

cigarettes

One can scarcely understand the complexity of living itself without understanding the complexity of death — not the sudden one which leaves one mourning in black suits, but the slower and constant gnaw which inexplicably leaves a smile pasted on his fat and cowardly face. It is pleasure; pleasure which is the devil’s whisper in his ear, that that tells him to forget of the bitter aftertaste of a one night’s stand; pleasure that takes all spring, summer and fall to remind him that it will be cold — yes, bitterly freezing in the wintertime; and pleasure which rots our insides and creates such a fascinating and unbeautiful corpse when it has taken it’s toll that only then does he cease pretending to not realize what he has lost.

A cigarette is the perfect example of a pleasure. A pleasure, by nature, takes away life and morals just as easily as it tells us that they do not matter. It is the daintiest and yet wickedest of man’s downfall, because when the cigarette starts to burn the mouth, it once again reminds us that although it was satisfaction which he sought when he put the lighter to his mouth, it is rather perfect yearning for another which remains. And as if his own flesh was mocking him, he is once again reminded that pleasure is the easiest of vices to forgive.

And yet, it is nearly a worthwhile dissatisfaction. What more could one want? A cigarette which lasts a day? Drunkedness which prolongs itself into the morning and the day after? An orgasm which lasts three hours? Opium? Perhaps. But at that point one is so disillusioned with the yearning for his pleasure that he may as well look for it (and find it) in hell for all eternity.

Religion (but only as Marx would say — as an opiate of the people) is a crutch for those who can’t bear the pleasure of their own transgressions. In that way, it is as misused and misunderstood as a sort of facet or catharsis for those who can't forgive themselves first, or rather, don't really want to. In this way, I believe that it is that wave of relentless guilt which creates the monstrosities of religion.. the crusades, extremist islams, westboro baptist. Because at that point, it is not that one has merely forgotten the central ideas of love and passion, but rather it is that they have never been adopted in the first place.

And as if that's an argument to stop smoking. Not even family which has died of the cigarette can stop one from really smoking.. in fact, that's how starts for some. What's a rainy night without a cigarette? It's like trying to paint over the canvas of the mind with a crayon.

And truly, it is a vile thing when one has taken away his pleasure of smoking with an incessant thirst for it. Such is the way all pleasures unavoidably, and rather justly, end.