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“The idea that sex is something a woman gives a man, and she loses something when she does that, which again for me is nonsense. I want us to raise girls differently where boys and girls start to see sexuality as something that they own, rather than something that a boy takes from a girl.”

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

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Friday, February 21, 2014

The truth and the devil is a liar...

They say sleep is the brother of death. Sleep and death might be related but they are not by any means identical. I often envision death as a strong swig of rum, burning as it passes through my throat, difficult to digest. But there are far more worst things than death, envy and jealousy will slowly strangle the life out of you. When the tentacles of covetousness entangles you like an enormous octopus, your demise is bipart swift or slow and painful. There are some human beings whom nothing brings greater joy or satisfaction to them than to see others fail. 

It's not like they gain anything by hurting you since what you have will never be there's but in their minds they have prevented you from becoming all that you could ever be by taking your life from you. They gain satisfaction from knowing that you have failed. They are myopic, unlearned yet committed to a vague idea that happiness can come from seeing others fail for there will always be men and women greater or lesser than they. The mask of covetousness will spend their entire lives tripping over corpse and unhappy because they cannot see himself from the ground up. He can only visualize what it must be like from the top to where he stands below. 

I often wonder why diabolical people wear mask. Metaphorically the mask supposedly is the false front but there are many people whose real face is worst than the mask they wear. The face of evil cannot be hidden, evil is not a quiet personality or emotion. It likes to gloat and puff it's chest up so that the pacific and the soft hearted can skulk away into obscurity. The mask understands ironically that people are both intrigue and intrepidated by either faces, it engages their senses on a deeper level: they are baffled trying to figure out what is real from which is only an imprint of a mask. 

The truth is not always a loud voice. Sometimes it is silent. It whispers or stands still like a phantom. You cannot get away from the truth. It slowly manifests itself like sun bursting from behind the clouds on a dark, misty morning. The Buddha says there are three things you cannot hide from the sun, the moon and the truth. 

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