Kind of an epilogue to Here Are My Knives of Night.
I haven’t cut for months.
It’s weird, really, thinking that I’ve grown up so much since the last time – and I’m keeping myself busier than ever. That helps. Perhaps I’m simply forcing myself into polymathematical shape so that I won’t think about the agony of my sins.
It’s almost Easter. I guess I have to think about them now.
Of course, the self-abuse still remains. It’s difficult to rid myself of that temptation so easily. We’ve been reading about sexual ethics in my Ethics classes; I can barely look at the page because I feel all of the guilt of what I have done. It’s know it’s wrong – and I am weaning myself off slowly, easily – but, especially when Muse is so far away now, the habit comes upon me when his eyes hover so near to my closed ones.
Habit. It is the omnipresent excuse. The textbook declared that it was acceptable in habit or self-relief, but I live by the Catholic name of morals, even when the ideal of Virtue Theory is tempting.
Maybe it’s necessary for some things to be subjective to opinion, found in the middle ways of one’s ideology: ‘they’ say even drinking is good in moderation. I have no complaints about that! But morals – is it appropriate to find a mixed middle ground when a firm position at either end is better for a world-view?
Good must come out of bad. Einstein's third law, by proxy, postulates that anything can feel the pull of gravity and the rise of cynical air-drag. I’m glad I choose to accept the Chaplaincy position, for, though late, a Prefect position came out of doing so. I was too quick to judge my companions; although power has changed them – and I have learnt much more about them than being a leader from the year – I have seen their spirit and known their advantages over mine for all the positions. They might never have wanted it for as long as I did, but at least I could see beyond the power now – to faith, and the reason for living.
After all, they are not the people I wanted to emulate. That generation was ephemeral, a part of my mind alone.
I can remember that I chose to work for Him, and for the Lord I carry on.
I may be in a kind of depression remission, but that has never stopped me feeling lonely. I have been alone my entire life – even not in spirit – but now I know that true understanding of never missing what one has never had.
If only I had never had it.
I guess love is the biggest lament I have ever made. There’s little I can do to heal this empty soul, but at least the physical scars fade. It’s one thing I can expect.