Sunday, 7 October 2012

Johns idealism demolished

            We already established that John Doe is an idealist, always in search for true love, whatever that is. Now let us try and figure out what is that supposed to mean. It’s quite hard actually, because John’s ideal isn’t exactly a pattern that needs to fit. Most of the time he doesn’t even know what he wants, and when by chance he finds some sort of guidance, he persistently screws everything up with a precision that would make a Swiss watch jealous.
            It’s not like he doesn’t try or something, he is just incapable of holding on to a direction long enough to reach a goal. He doesn’t fool himself. He knows true love is an utopia, and he doesn’t expect to find it in this life. The world, in his conception, is just too self-centered to achieve such a thing. And then, what’s the point in trying to reach out to something you most definitely never find? The earth is full of true believers in a fake cause. The cause of love. As if love could mean everything in life. That’s a load of crap. For John, even happiness is optional. You don’t need to be happy to live, being happy is just a bonus, an extended version of a pathetic existence.
            But sadness isn’t an option either. You don’t have to be sad just because you’re not happy. Being unhappy doesn’t take you down to the other edge, the cold and desperate edge of depression. It just makes you unhappy, it’s something that you don’t have, not something that you miss. John is not a hypocrite, he doesn’t fool himself into believing that he is better off in his lack of happiness. He’s living his life just like everyone else, throwing himself into wild goose chase after wild goose chase, in the pursuit of the thing that everyone wants, but almost no one gets in this world. Bliss. That beautiful yet so frustrating feeling, that some get out of drugs, others out of alcohol, and the fools from what they think is love. John gets his dose of bliss from the easiest dealer out there, the oldest and simplest form of the drug, ignorance. Yes, ignorance is bliss, and John believes in that.
            All of this doesn’t mean that John doesn’t believe in love. That’s not at all the case. He’s a fool like everyone else, the foulest of them all, I may say. He’s so hung up on his ignorance that he searches for the other source of happiness only in the purest form. He wishes for absolute love, he falls with ease, but he falls hard, and he usually goes for the thing he knows from the start that he’ll never have. That doesn’t bother him though. He got used to swimming in a sea of “what if”s, never being able to reach the shore, never finding closure or getting any satisfaction of any sort. He’s been doing this for so long that you might even think he started to like it. And he will most likely never find solid ground. He just swims from raft to raft, trying not to drown, letting himself be carried by the currents.

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