I consider myself quite knowledgeable for my years, and over the past decade or so—it is probably even longer than that—there is a question which has puzzled me immensely, and no matter how much I ponder it, or in which way I attempt to see it, I simply cannot seem to figure it out: Why is being female the greatest of shames?

For my own part I have never wished to be anything else than female, and fact is that even if I were given one million dollars for being genetically altered to become male, I would pass the opportunity up, for I have never desired to be anything else than what I am. The reason for this is that I have always been female, I was made one; ever since the moment of conception, when I came into being for the first time, my twenty-third chromosomes have been homologous. Why this is a fate worth regretting a lifetime, I shall never understand.

Once upon a time—and in some places still—women were sacred creatures because they were the ones who gave birth to new life; they were the ones who illustrated the purpose of all human existence, both biologically as well as symbolically: the smiling sun upon the heavens is a goddess in many religions and Westerners still refer to their world as “Mother Earth”. For millennia the fertile female form has been celebrated, and its essence has been captured by skilled artists of ages past, some of their creations spared from the teeth of time for us to see.

Venus de Milo

Venus de Milo

But those figurines—whose beauty is easily appreciated—stem from ages now long lost. As man left his hunter-gatherer days to cultivate the land his life changed forever, the greatest change of them all however yet to come. But eventually, it did arrive, and the man of today is now the resident of an increasingly post-industrial world, a world in which being female is the greatest of shames.

All ages have their Venuses. The hunter-gatherers had their figurines, such as the Venus of Willendorf, whose true purpose still is disputed—was she a depiction of a goddess, a charm of fertility, or was she simply a piece of art celebrating the beauty of the feminine? The agriculturalists had the true Venuses—the ones who gave their name to the morning star—and the Venus de Milo is still admired by millions every year. The industrialists too have ideal female beauties, but they are no longer celebrated in the same way.

No, the Venuses of industrialisation are raised to feel ashamed over having been cursed already at conception, they are taught that having homologous twenty-third chromosomes is being of lesser worth; the woman of today knows that she is inferior to any man. At least, this is the sole explanation I have come up with in regards to the question I mentioned before: Why is being female the greatest of shames?

In the industrial world the ideal woman is the one who pursues a career; for some reason she has ceased to value herself and instead elevated men to the skies. A modern woman shall not be content until she is identical to a man, and I am terribly sorry for being the one who brings her the news; but this, her ultimate goal, shall never be. She will never grow a beard and speak with a low tone of voice by natural means, for she is a woman—she should take pride in that!

Why Should They Do It?

Why Should They Do It?

Were women an obsolete a part of humanity they would all have been male, but considering how I am no man, there must be a reason for why there are women and why there are men. Fact is that they have different roles to fill, both equally important, despite not being the same. To say such a thing, as I just said, is however forbidden—and very strangely so. Again, I say, this can stem from no reason other than women refusing to acknowledge that they are equal to men.

The world is not fair, if it was, there would be neither males nor females, they would all be the same; both would be equipped with ovaries as well as testes—but such an egalitarian society I highly doubt I will ever see! To make up for this unfair a truth, nature is however most compassionate and makes sure that a foetus during gestation is exposed to hormones that eventually shall make it content with its lot. At least, this has worked in the case of me—I am a delighted female, I desire nothing more, but as far as the rest of humanity is concerned, I simply do not know.

Somewhere, deep inside, even the most female-despising of women must realise that she is seeking revenge for her fate in the wrong way, however so convinced of her own inferiority that she disregards from this and presses on in the pursuit of a goal she believes herself desiring to attain. And, when confronted with something that makes her uncomfortable, she charges and goes to attack instead of pondering its contents. To all such women I have one thing to say: An empty cart makes much noise, a full cart less so.

However, even broken clocks are right twice a day, and the situation of women has indeed improved. No longer need any woman die from complications in childbirth, and she is allowed to vote and to make her voice heard. No longer is a woman kept from making a career, she is allowed to seek the intellectual challenges which all human beings crave. This, I cannot critique—I have no reason to. What I do critique is that women believe themselves being of lesser worth. They are not, why do they even believe so?

There is no need for me to state facts—no-one will listen—but I tell you this—and you may consider it and draw your own conclusions—but ever since women started to doubt their value the world has started to shake. When the people who mattered most to the future of man have abandoned the most glorious of tasks, the consequences can be nothing but severe. All it takes is an open mind and a pair of eyes—look around!—is this world of ours a society that thrives? Something has gone wrong in this most modern age of man, and it is only because some people doubt themselves. I hate to point the finger—so I shall not do so—for those who are responsible know deep within who they are.

The celebrated modern woman is no longer a feminine beauty, she is an aspiring male. How has this come to be? What is it that makes women believe that they are worthless do they not live the life of a man? Shall the world ever come to acknowledge the simple fact that life is not fair, but that one’s lot still is better than none? It is with the greatest of regrets that I say that this I do not know; I know many things but the answer to these questions are still shrouded in mystery to me. One day, however, I intend to change this; one day, I shall know and make sure to tell you, for I believe that being female is just as fine a fate as being male.

Be proud of who you are, do not attempt to change! Take pride in being yourself, for people who know their worth and value have nothing to prove.

Finally, I shall say that man is a creature who learns from his own mistakes; a fact which delights me as the more educated man becomes the more ignorant shall he realise himself to be. And when his ignorance has been realised, there will no longer be any need for the goddesses to be ashamed.


I fear for the future of humanity.

Despite the utopian dreams which I hold for our species’ future, I have started to doubt. The crystal-clear images which I previously have beheld in the imaginative parts of my mind – of people accomplishing the most wonderful of things, of achieving what previously was thought of as impossible – have faded and their outlines have been blurred.

I have realised that the future of humanity is far more distant now, than ever before. The reason for this being so is simple, and for those who have understood, it is more obvious than anything else.

Over the course of just a few decades humanity has quite successfully undermined the accomplishments of centuries and millenia, all in the belief of a vain opinion, being held as true.

To tell you of what this belief’s nature is, I fear, as it has become taboo to claim that it is false. I have however realised the importance of it being told, and so I will strive against the opinion of others, and speak up regarding my own. For too long have my views dwelled in the depths of suppression, and now the day has come to mention them for the first time.

Before you condemn this opinion of mine, which now is to follow, please read it all through and then speak ill of it. For I believe that once the argument has been finished, the truth is clear.

For years – I believe since the second world war – people have told each other that all are special and truly valuable. Children have grown up to know themselves special and unmeasureable in worth. This opinion is delightful in its nature, and admireable in its aims and ambitions – to urge the young to grow up and do good. Somewhere along the way, however, this idea ceased to be inspirational and instead grown darker than the darkness of night. Today, the belief of that everyone is special has poisoned the world and disillusioned its inhabitants.

Belief in oneself is no longer a – in my eyes – desireable trait. For, it does nothing else but to blind the person who believes. Everyone is said to deserve equal benefits, and though admireable, such a notion has done nothing but harm. Further, when all deserve, then it really is so that the logical conclusion is that none deserves in the end.

Allow me to elaborate. The belief which has poisoned the young mind of today is this: “I am – therefore am I special“. It is indeed so that humanity has travelled far since the original quote was coined, but little have we evolved since. Rather, we have de-volved; grown to become less valuable than we once were. For truly, the words: “I think – therefore I am“, are much more noble and prone to inspire than previously mentioned ones.

The problem with the modern world is thateveryone is special, and since they all are, then no one is so in the end. The belief in one’s supremacy is as dangerous as is the indivdual’s submission to the allure of that a society, a race, a species is of greater worth than the rest of the world and its inhabitants.

There is no longer such a thing as manners, the polite person is dead – shot through the heart by the arrows supremacy has created. For today, each and every one is his own master and the opinions of others matter little, or even less. To tell someone that they are wrong, that their belief is in vain, is the modern world’s greatest of sins. To follow one’s convictions has become the most priced of personal traits, but to what cost? Truly, it is at the expense of the rest of the world.

For when an argument no longer can be carries out in peace, because on, or both, of the arguing parties are blind to all beliefs but their own, then the peak of sophistication and evolution has truly been left in the past.

The world, society, and the human mind have ceased to evolve. The fire of man’s passions and desire to advance, has faded and turned to ashes, become debris easily carried away upon the powerful wings of conviction’s strength. No longer is man striving to attain the unreachable, no longer is he interested in becoming more than the sum of his parts.

No, for the man of today, and his species alongside with him, they know themselves to be special, a belief untouchable by others. Man knows himself to be more than anyone else, and as he beliefs his value is greater than the rest of the world’s, then, does he really have prove his worth? The answer is no – of course – for he already knows himself to be special, a belief which does not have to be explained.

Truly, advancements have been left in the past. For long gone are the ages when man doubted himself and his nature, and spent more time pondering than being convinced. Man is an ambiguous creature, and the more he doubts himself, the more does he go one to accomplish.

When man knows himself to be wrong, and while seeking the approval of others, he creates. He thinks, therefore he is. This – this – is the belief, the belief in that one is not special, that inspires the realisation of dreams. For, as man is not perfect, he is not special, if he strives, then maybe, he can become more.

This is what has helped man evolve this far, but now, in the age of convictiona and belief, man has ceased to grow, he has stagnated and now he is little more than simply himself. The desire to become more has been suffocated, it has been looked down upon, been claimed to be nothing but a dangerous belief.

I am glad that I belong to one of the few who are in doubt. For, while I try to become more than the sum of my parts, I can accomplish the greatest of things.

I fear the future of humanity because man has ceased to doubt and instead grown convinced and I equally fear for the future of humanity because modern man believes himself unable to ever falter or be wrong.

This argument of mine is however not new, but I fear it has grown to be little known, and that the world may benefit greatly to once again see it before its eyes. Though some damage never can be undone, perhaps a few can re-think their supremacy and join the ranks of those accomplished people, those whose strength lies in doubt.

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
– William Shakespeare, “As You Like It”, Act 5 scene 1

One of the greatest curses of all must be to be born human – sentient but still not wise enough to understand. Ever since the dawn of time we have evolved, but I dare say that it has not been for the better, not that the life of a human has ever been good. Nowadays our society is balancing on the edge, a nose-thumbing action toward a being that does not exist, a dare-devil act to prove a fact that is not true. I fear for my future, for the world will not be able to stay balanced for much longer. It has been losing its footing for some time now.

I am not smart enough to be considered smart, nor am I stupid enough to be considered stupid. I am a person of two inbetweens, and I believe that it is my curse. During my entire life I have dreamt of accomplishing something, but my liited understanding has prevented me from doing so. I do not know what events in my past have scarred me so that I require appreciation in order to remain sane. Can you image? A person of limited understanding who requires appreciation? Can there even be such a thing? – I hear you ask. I am the ultimate proof of that it is true.

I believe that I unintentionally said something that made two successful scientists reconsider what they have written. I think I made them wonder if their ideas were so clumpsily presented as I made them appear. I am a person of limited understanding, but with the aspiration of being seen as someone whose views are worth looking into. But through my action of not understanding, to twist their words, I guess it can be read out as that all I really did was to seek attention, and it failed.

Can you imagine what life is like when you have to spend every minute of every day in the company of the one person in the world that you can not stand? I can not stand my own person, and I am forever trapped in the same body as myself. There does not pass a day during which I wish that I were someone else, someone who has accomplished something, someone who understands, someone who is not as stupid as I.

I really do not believe that my life is going well. I have over the years tried to make others like me to the extent that I forgot who I am. Though over a year has passed since I realized this for the first time, I yet have to come up with an answer to the age-old question of who I am. I know who I wish to become, I know who I wish I were. But if I do not know who I am, then I will never be able to change.

I am a person who is all alone in this world, I have no one to turn to. For someone who requires a great deal of affection in order to feel somewhat good about oneself, it is hard. I turned to the person who has cared for me over the years, tried to explain what I am going through. Though human psychology is never straight-forward. The mind likes to camouflage its requests. And, even though the person to whom I turned claims that they understand the workings of the mind, they did not understand me. So, instead of the encouraging speech I had looked forward to listening to, I got the exact opposite. I wish for that I just once in my life can be allowed to listen to a pep-talk aimed at me, one that does not make me turn my head in order to conceal the tears of deafeat that are rolling down my cheeks.

I do not believe that the world is a beautiful place. I once did – proof of my stupidity and lack of understanding. It was however quite a while since I started to realize, and now I know. I have felt the world’s loss of footing and I am dreading its downfall. People in general try not to notice, but I know that over the past 50 years or so the world has found itself sliding down a slippery slope at an accelerating speed.

What my heart’s greatest desire is, I can not speak of. The world has leant too far away from the time during which my greatest desire would have been celebrated. Now, in the modern world, I may not utter what I believe the point of my life is, simply out of fear for retaliation.

It is a world which has lost its footing that we live in. I am smart enough to have realized this, but I am not smart enough to be listened to. Young people are allowed to cheat because no one cares about their future. Young people are allowed to suffer because their most hearfelt desires are looked down upon.

It is a terrible world I have been born into and I believe that my humanity is my curse. Had I not been human I would have survived the downfall of all human societies, the downfall which is near.

Women Will Never Be Free

March 24, 2008

Women have always been slaves and they will never be set free. The illusion of freedom has prevailed for many years and countless are those who naïvely have been desillusionised by the promises of sugared lies.

Why women always have been enslaved, is for me a mystery, but perhaps it is because of jealousy, the most dangerous of all of man’s diseases. For, as women can be seen as the crown of creation (a point which has been made even in religious scriptures – that God first made a sketch, the man, and that He then went on to create the woman) the step is not long from celebrating the power of the female form to shunning it.

Even if women nowadays have rights, they are not free. In the earlier days of history, women were not allowed to indulge in any level of higher study, the home was seen as her realm. Today, feminists have changed the world – but not for the better.

In modern times, women are allowed to become educated, but it has gone far beyound being a simple right. Today, it is a necessity and all women must become educated.

That there is no freedom for women to choose what is best for themselves is what constitutes the prison of slavery which has surrounded the female form for so many years. It still remains, even in these enlightened times of ours, to my great sorry and agony.

For, a woman is not allowed to choose for herself, society has already made all of her choices and she herself has no point to add to the discussion. It is just like in ancient times, and among some of today’s cultures and religions, that society and men decicede what is best for the woman.

This angers and saddens me, for I wish to determine what is best for myself. I am a woman and I have been blessed with the ability to give birth to life. I fail to understand why I am by society am treated like this blessing is a curse.

When I say that I wish to become a mother, first and foremost, society laugh at me. For, as a woman, I am expected to become educated and make a carreer for myself, even if this happens to not be one of my wishes. Children, society reasons, is something one gets in time.

Gets? I then answer, baffled. Children is not something one gets, nor something one recieves. No, having children is a blessing, a life-time committment, something which should be greatly honored, not shunned.

The is only one truth which a woman has to face – that she has no right to determine what is best for herself. In ancient times the home was her realm, in modern times, the carreer is her path.

When will the day come when women are allowed to amke decisions for themselves?

And as a last point, I would like to add a slight wonder – how come that the land of the free soon no longer will be? For, if women are legally stripped of their rights to determine the fate of their own bosies, the modern times no longer will remain. No, the stripping of the woman’s power over her own body is the first step toward a degradation of the social nowm – back into the middle ages and the cultures the land of the free fears so much.

There are people who describe me as lazy when I tell them that medicine does not interest me. Considering that I neither am interested in the study of law, I wonder why I am not seen as lazy, not yet having studied the subject.

Life is all about priorities. All I have come to understand, this far in my life, is that neither law nor medicine are are of my personal priorities.

The only thing I cam be accounted as being lazy for, is that I yet have to find what my priorities are. Wait… I already know what my priorities and passions are, just that they are far different from what is considered being the norm.

To aspire attaining motherhood is by some considered as lazy, but having grown up with a stay-at-home mother always present, I can honestly and accurately say that it is no occupation for the lazy. That people see aspiring mothers as lazy, and at times pathetic, angers me.

It is because of an attitude like this, that being a good mother is no priority of people (or rather women), that the world of today is in such bad shape as it actually is. The world of today sees terrors such as murder and rape and robbery, as mundane.

I am also called being a dreamer, in additon to being called lazy, as if being a dreamer is a negative trait. World, I ask of you to forgive me for being a dreamer, but of all the things I have sacrificed for being seen as sane by you, being a dreamer is the one thing I refuse to abandon.

So be it that I am lost in a 19th century world, where women were mothers and did not pursue any carreers. During those days, which now are far in the past, children and youths were well-behaved, and the world did in effect not suffer from the mundanity that surrounds the terrors of this world.

It Is Taboo To Believe

January 18, 2008

In this modern world of ours, it is not allowed to believe that one is worth the slightest thing. To imagine that one is destined for greater things in life is a sin. The world revolves around such these modern ideas, that the world is a collective and that all people are equals.

People may be equal in worth, but not in destiny. Everyone is said to deserve, and have the right to, a better life – a life of health and happiness. Though none of this is untrue, I find that World contradicts itself on a regular basis. In my head I simply can not balance the equation.

If World claims that people deserve to be healthy and happy, that these two conditions are basic human rights, then how can World teach that no person is allowed to see themselves as deserving of a better life? In theory everything may be perfect, but in practice, it is not.

The society which has raised me has taught me that I am no one. I am no one to say that I am a good person, that I deserve anything in life. That I have feared to proritize myself has led to my current state of mind.

I am a nursing student, and a terribly unhappy one, for what it matters. I had a vision of changing the world, but half a year has destoryed most of me. My health has been on the decline since day one, and with it,my happiness. My inspiration is gone with the wind, the flame of my passions has turned to ashes.

That I feel like person destined for greater things in life, is not accepted. No one should excel, for if one person does, the rest of the world may feel that they are of lesser worth. They are not, for all people are unique.

Some people make excellent nurses because they are caring and have hearts of gold. They are genuinely interested in the welfare of others. Some people make excellent jewelers because they are creative and have the yes needed for detailed work. Some people make great doctors, for they have the wits and patience to go through the many years leading to their certification, they too, care about people.

Among all these people, who all are different, and of equal worth, some are different. Some people are not like others, just because everyone is unique. But these people are destined to lead lives of unhappiness, all because their success would outshine others’.

I often feel that I lack the words to express my frustration. I will let the law that defines the society I have been born as part of express it instead of me.

The Jante Law:

  • Don’t think that you are special.
  • Don’t think that you are of the same standing as us.
  • Don’t think that you are smarter than us.
  • Don’t fancy yourself as being better than us.
  • Don’t think that you know more than us.
  • Don’t think that you are more important than us.
  • Don’t think that you are good at anything.
  • Don’t laugh at us.
  • Don’t think that anyone cares about you.
  • Don’t think that you can teach us anything.

If a mentality, like the one by the law expressed above, is allowed to guide the decisions of a society’s people, do you imagine that the people will turn out as a happy people? From my own experience, I can say no.

The people of my country all have the same expression, the expression I have found myself exhibiting as of late. There is no glint in any eye, the lips are tightly pressed together, all views are blank stares. The colors are matte, the atmoshpere depressed. And it is all because the people have been taught, since childhood, that they are not worth a thing.

An excerpt from the Wikipedia article concerning Swedish Culture:

Swedes have an egalitarian outlook. The concept of Jante Law is in many areas and fields still today strong in Sweden, and any form of elitism is likely to meet strong criticism. This attitude goes in hand with the Swedish lagomhet, the appraisal of modesty and humbleness.

I have a suffocating feeling come over me at times. Recently, it is like it never has left my side. Day as night I have a mare clenching my chest, squeezing life out of me. I feel that this world is not mine, that there is nothing I can do to pull myself off the ground and soar.

(The mare I will never be rid of, for she is part of me. My mind has summoned her presence, and one can not rid oneself of one’s demons, does one not want them to go away.)

I would never make a great nurse. I may make a good nurse, but people who are in need of care and kindness are not in need of good nurses – they need great nurses, nurses who are passionate about their profession.

I would never make a great jeweler. I may make a good jeweler, but any successful one nees to be passionate. No matter how many noble stones and shimmering objects I were to be surrounded by, the mare compressing my chest would whisper in my ear, tell me that I am destined for greater things in life.

I would never make a great doctor. I may make a good doctor, but I would lack the passion and commitment. For, in my eyes, my life would be over by the time I finished my medical studies. I am a free spirit, I am a carefree soul. My heart would roam the vast praries was it ever allowed to. To spend 7 years of my life enrolled in studies of subjects with a common goal, would be the end of me.

No, I would never make a great anything – not a jeweler like I wish to be, nor a nurse as I am on my way to be. Neither would I make a good doctor, as everyone tells me to be. The reason for this is that I would feel my life lacked something.

I feel this already, the lack of a spice in life. The spice of new innovations, of success. For, I want to make a name for myself, I wish to become someone. The Law of Jante, having told me to never believe I am someone, has made my carefree soul tire. It wishes to soar, to throw the stupid laws onto their back, leave them squiggling in the mud.

But to tell the world that I am worth something. No, that will never happen. It is not accepted. It is taboo to actually believe in oneself. It is a sin to believe that one is more than others.

And yet, this is what I feel. I am destined for greater things, I have a superior mind. The people who my days are filled with, they may be sweet and kind, but I lack their passion. The people who I study with, they will all make great nurses one day, no doubt, but I will not. These sweet people do however struggle, they find the studies challenging. It is this which has made me aware of that I am destined for other things. I sleep in class (though my eyes are open) and still I excel. To lead such a life is not challenging and will eventually start to degrade one from the passionate core and beyound.

The dreams I had of one day changing the world for the better, they are all gone my now. The blazing embers that fueled my passions, they have been put out. Whatever part of me that was eunthusiastic has been turned to grey ashes. One breath – and they will turn to the finest dust, easily carried away by the wind.

Upon seeing myself in a mirror, this is exactly what I see – my face degrading into fine, grey ashes. The slightest breath wears me down, and whatever I am constructed by is carried away to a far away place.

It is hurtful to see one go through all this, and all because of a society’s disturbed ideals. That everyone should be the same, that the gifted should sattle for the second best, so no one is to be hurt. My whole life I have however been left wondering – “What about the gifted, what about those who excel? Who is to care for these people? Who will see to their best?”

A society which does not appreciate the talent that is hidden within, should not be allowed to exist.

I find myself an increasingly cynical person, someone without a place in life. Every morning and evening when I pass by my bedroom mirror, I am forced to close my eyes. For, I know that beyound the silver glass, there is a reflection of a broken person. The broken person is every morning and evening turned to ashes and carried away by the wind.

To be destined for great things is hard, especially when it is taboo to believe.

A Footnote:

Upon reading this text through, I realize that I failed to get my point across. I lost it during writing this block of text. At least I was relieved of some angst.

I do however hope that you do not judge me for my views, just as much as you judge a cettle for boiling when placed above a fire.

If there is but one thing I know (I wish it was what I want to spend my life doing, but sadly, that revelation I am still on the market for) it is that I can not stay in this country in which I have been raised.

As of late I have found myself considering philosophical questions to the extent that they no longer are philosophical in nature, but rather essential, all in order for me to remain sane. In a time of doubt – of one’s expections on life, on one’s choices of paths to follow – these questions are more important than ever before.

It is often it occurs that a question or a thought is caught in a loop in the brain’s complicated biochemical circutery. The same phrase is repeated over and over again, presented for one’s cognitive and study-essential abilities time after another. Sometimes one is able to free oneself from the sticky grip of the question which at first seemed rather harmless. But then there are the times where this thought’s adhesive is more persistent than ever before and the only way of escaping its grip is to confront it.

Has the essence of being human evolved over time? This question has been crawling around inside my head. It has scrathed my frontal lobe, it has conquered the gap between my hemispheres, it has snuck between my cortex’s grey matter and the underlying white. The question has parasited on, me has given me no time to rest. For, every time I have closed my eyes, tried to escape the demands I face, it has been there.
What does it mean to be human? Has the essence of it evolved over time?

It does not take one long to realize that a choice one has made never was the right one. Of this, I have become painfully aware, all as my college studies have advanced. When the joy of waking up in the morning is no more, when every breath seems worthless to take, that is when one knows that a choice has been made and altered life in a way it was never supposed to.

The feeling of despair is ancient. For ages it has told man that he is in danger, that something has to be done about it. The feeling of anxiety is a body’s own alarm. It tells us when something is wrong. Depair and anxiety are feelings one would be better off without, and that is why they motivate us to rid ourselves of what it i that troubles us.

In past times the feeling of anxiety must of course have been present – if not, it would logically not exist. Every element of the human body – from the largest structure to the smallest feeling – has been crafted my millions of years worth of evolution to ensure that the human race would be sturdy in any battle it would ever encounter.

It is possible that the anxiety of ancient times was simple in its nature, I am however no expert in the field. An unpleasant, but hard to define, feeling of worry is located just below the rim of the ribcage, accentuated when the little creature which is the source of anxiety moves – triggered by bodily, emotional and external stimuli. It is a little creature in my eyes, Anxiety, thought I know better. But a feeling which is so alive as anxiety has to be more than just neurotransmitters between two neurons in the abdomen. When it comes to the human body I am sure that it is more than just the sum of its parts.

By definition anxiety is “distress or uneasiness of mind caused by fear of danger or misfortune.” Of course this feeling must have been present during ancient times. There were many dangers which surrounded the mere act of being alive and breathing:

“Will the sickness the other tribes have suffered reach ours?”
“Will the resources of the upcoming summer be sufficent to sustain us yet another winter?”
“Will the children grow old enough to give rise to a new generation?”

Anxiety is however not a constructive feeling per se. During short periods of time it may be constructive in its effects of being a motivational force. The human body is however fragile (not to external injury) but to what it is capable of doing to itself. Prolonged expoure to anxiety hurts the body, being deconstructive to the structures which make up the organism. If anxiety was designed to fulfil such a purpose, then I personally doubt it would ever have been incorporated into human nuture throught the course of evolution. For, the skills humanity have aquired are all supposed to help and motivate her, push her forward to face new frontiers. These skills were not designed to be the shovel with which she slowly undermines herself.

In the modern society, among all the sparkling inventions and shining symbols of luxury and abundance, anxiety is a dirty host which grins and sneers when it has dug its teeth far into its next victim. Why Anxiety glee? Because it knows it will not let go of the human sould easily. For years it will tains it, paint it black with its promises of misfortune. All in the name of destruction, which irt so well represents.

Of this I have been aware for some time now. Ever since I made a terrible choice a few months ago which has come to affect my every day ever since. In April (which seems to be so far away now) I chose not to pursue my life’s dream, but to settle for something easier and more simple – something which would help me aquire the point of my whole existance earlier. It was a decision which was not wholly flawed, but close to being so. This choice of mine has haunted me since the late days of August.

Since then, I have been pondering the essential questions of life.

“What is the point of being alive?”
“What am I supposed to do with my life?”
“Who am I?”

For years, my whole life to be exact, I have been sure of who I am, who I was supposed to become. I still know what I would like to become the most, who I am deep inside. It is just that there are some obstacles which have to be conquered before then, some problems which have to be solved. I have based my whole life upon something I am not sure of, nor the reason for me being so convinced.

Had I only stopped and asked myself who I truly were, perhaps then the true me would have answered – truthfully. One question I already have answered. The answer I keep close to my heart. I yhope for that the answer will give me energy to move on, that the reassurance of having one of life’s questions answered would help me subdue the hungry beast of anxiety. That this is true, I already know. It is the only star upon the pitch black heavens of my life.

The other questions are what nurture Anxiety. Every time I release the cognitive firewalls my body has created to presrve my sanity for a later day I nurture the beast which is curled up just below my ribcage. I imagine it being similar in appearance to a porcupine, raising its spikes in delight from having been nurtured yet again. It grows larger and larger, more and more fierce. It rolls around inside me, it tastes what my insides are like in flavour. (I imagine my taste is as dull as my spirits, something whoch brings me some joy, knowing that Anxiety will not be dining on delicacies.)

The questions which Anxiety draw their energy from are the ones to which I have no answers.
“What am I supposed to do with my life – should I do what brings me joy or what brings me the aids of fulfilling my goals?”
“Should I continue walking the path I have chosen to follow, even if half a year upon it has brought me nothing but despair?”

The most sentient question I should ask myself in this context is why I even ask myself all these questions. I already know the answer to them. And by definition, knowing the answer to something is the opposite of having an unanswered question.

So, what is it which makes me suffer from anxiety? What is it inside me which nurtures the little beast inside me, whom I have come to know as Anxiety?

To these questions I already have the answers. It is the fear of losing control of my life which brings me all this sorrow. I know what I have but I do not know what I may recieve later on. The wise part of me, the part which has survived the great darkness of Anxiety, tells me that I should gamble for once ion my life. For, the one who never bets will never win. The reasonable part of me, which is less subdues by Anxiety, then counters with telling me that gambling is a situation aimed in only one dierction – loss and eventually depair (which is another name of Anxiety’s). In gambling the gambler never wlaks off with the pot of gold. An outcome like that was never the point of gambling, thus it is also knows as hazard games.

So, here I am, stuck inbetween two absolutes. The reasonable and the wise one. I can not side with either one for they are both equally large parts of me. Without either of them, I ould simply not be me.

Can questions give rise to answers? Can one question give rise to more than one answer? Has the initial question I asked myself been answered yet? Are there questions which never will be answered?

No question will ever be answered fully, something will always be left unsaid, unthought of, unanswered. Questions give rise to answers, that is their nature, their sole point of existance. The inital question will never be fully answered, but part of it has been illuminated.

Has the essence of being human evolved over time?
My current state of mind says that it has. As well as that it has not.

Not, in a sense of that anxiety is part of the human creation. The “distress or uneasiness of mind caused by fear of danger or misfortune” in part of human nature. As a part of it, it can never be removed. Thus, the essence of being human has not changed over the millions of years it has been exposed to change, all because the human being is more than the sum of its parts – which is the essence.

Then again, what is the point of being alive? Is it not to give rise to a new generation of people who eventually will come to ponder the point of being alive? In my eyes it is. In the world mankind has found itself in today so many essentials of life have been impeded by constructions which will serve no purpose the day we are gone. Because of such insights, the only sentient conclusion is that life is too short to not enjoy. For, in a hundred years, no one will care whether or not I came to terms with myself. In a hundred years, it will not matter. For, by that time, I will have given rise to people who ponder the same question I struggle with for the time being.

Already knowing the answer to my problems, though I do not wish to admit it to myself, one may wonder what I am doing with my life. For a person who is not me, I must appear to be self-desructive – insisting upon doing things I could not care less about and which bring me grief.

In a perfect world, there would be no such thing as anxiety. In a perfect world I would follow the directions my heart has written down for me. If I only chose to disregard ffrom the torn parts of myself. If only I chose to see what plan my heart has laid out for me to follow.

For really, it does not matter whether or not the essence of being human has changed over time. What matters is what is for the moment and the best way to treasure it.

(If advice from others is easier to listen to than one’s own, then listen to someone who offers advice. Following one’s heart is the wisest point of action. To do things which bring one no joy is pointless. By the time one’s life has come to end, one will only regret what one never did. Like following one’s heart and not having lead the perfect life, but the life which made one happy. For, all human beings, all people, are wonderful creations who deserve to die with a smile of success upon their lips as the graduate from life.)