will the momentum of puberty’s paroxysms suffice to persist in the investigation? and truth and wisdom – arbitrary, spacious, elusive and implacable? is there consolation? how to endure the tears from the stinging light, the tears of epiphany…the bliss of grasping, even for a moment, a meaning, or an idea, but not consciously, but with the soul and mind and senses.
truth demanded many lives, of men worthier than i. and with my social suicide I join them, if only thus – still meek and doubting, fearful and selfish, still glancing back nostalgically, at the other life – so snug, so peaceful. and so false.