Silver Line-Ins & Gold No-Get: Not Making This Much Sense Is Not Natural
I realize I’m a special case. An oddball. Bizarre.
The world has never made much sense to me; I’ve always felt at odds with it, fearing that perhaps I’d been built with a bad brain and an inability to apprehend certain aspects that are needed to comprehend the social fabric and willingly weave one’s place within it. That the world didn’t make sense to me, seeing only the means to madness and sorrow, had to be due to the fact that I was somehow deficient.
In my twenties, I honestly feared heading into my early thirties, as this is when most cases of schizophrenia are concretized in male individuals, males being statistically more likely to develop this illness. Sadly, ironically, it was my sister who suffered a mental disorder; I was all over the place if not in school in those years, and my sister was doing post-grad in Kingston then moved to Australia; she managed to hide her condition from us, which her partner became complicit in… until her suicide.
In retrospect, however, all was so clear. We’re so busy confirming what we know and want to know that we rarely really pay attention to what is said.
So, on my side, not schizophrenia… Gaining some experience navigating through life and accumulating the lessons, I came to see it as an over-build problem, in that the processing tools I’d been given produced apprehension and comprehension levels that exceeded the average results. But were the average results the targeted results; the ideal? The necessary part of a happy life? With time, I accepted that this was a deficiency nonetheless, as I wasn’t operating within the optimal functionality levels set by society.
And worse: I didn’t possess the kind of moral-to-thought add-on pack that framed the world as a series of money-making opportunities that my over-processing deficiency allowed me to take advantage of. I simply wasn’t built for this world.
The one constant through all this is my assurance that the world makes no sense to me. With age comes wisdom, though not necessarily good sense, which is why I’ve dropped the “to me” at some point and embraced as my faith: The world makes no sense.
I’ve also become aware that many, equally, in their own way, can’t make one bit of sense out of this world. I’ve also stopped accepting that this is the way it has to be. None of the systems we adhere to and beliefs that we hold central arise out of nature, establishing themselves onto our lives in the same manner that the sun rises, rain falls, and flowers bloom; they are entirely synthetic constructs we’ve imposed over that tiny window unto the landscape of time that’s granted to each individual.
And we can, and should strive, for far better. Only a disturbing level of indoctrination and/or utter selfishness combined with a limited vision can convince anyone otherwise.
What I now accept: Due to whatever parts of nature and nurture are responsible for the me, I simply wasn’t trained to accept Capitalistic hubris as a valid structure for human life given that, clearly, the cost of continuing down this path is our humanity.