I finally realized, and accepted, that my deformation is not the spawn of something intellectual; it is simply deformation. My pursuit of knowledge never guaranteed real company. The facets of this deformation are mirrored in many intellectuals, but that does NOT denote deformation.
The isolation continues.
I am past the event horizon now.
What parts of me account for my Space Oddity Syndrome? If I cried S.O.S, would you ask 'what soul?' My past failures and faux-pas have resurfaced, and complete paranoia sets in. I don't feel like I can escape this.
Every part of my body seems to twitch in as much nervousness as my mind stews. It begins in the smallest areas, and spreads inwards. It seems to even touch my mind spasmatically - but there is no empirical way to know. Have I regressed, or evolved further? Either way, I cannot surpress the desire to return, regresssion or eveolution aside. Do I even care about evolving anymore? Have I found the price that I am not willing to pay? Did I overestimate my potential? Or did I just underestimate it? Am I the only one of my ilk, at least in this place and time...?
Is this psychosomatic, or just plain psychotic? Is this my own delusion, or someone's shifting illusion? Can reality be silent and yet deafening at the same time?
The rusting inside me has spread. When I collapse from this cancer caving me in, it will rain the oxide-red. My rust is a weed that I don't even feed but it continues to grow despite my protests. The harder I try to halt its growth, the more I have to rescind my oath.
