I envision a future in which man is judged by his peers and by society solely on his creation – on his music, on his art, on his invention. Where every human life is valued because every human life is the potential for creation. And where people understand the following: Respecting every individual’s ability to create is respecting society as a whole, for stability comes from diversity, and diversity comes from freedom.

There are those who say if everyone received everything they ever needed, then nobody would ever work. That may be true. I also, however,  believe that we need to create. It’s in our blood, it’s in our spirits. It’s human. I believe that if everyone received food and clothing and shelter, we wouldn’t actually cease to make progress — in fact, I believe we would make more progress. You may ask, what incentive is there? Why would anyone waste time creating? The answer is quite simple. It’s not respect from colleagues. It’s not the survival of the human race, even. It’s individual. It’s selfish. It’s the sheer feeling of accomplishment. The very pride in our individual selves that defines us as separate and distinct from others. It’s that happiness in becoming something tangible, something real and solid and definite, that one feeling that no amount of money could ever buy.

You don’t get that feeling? Well I do. But only when I separate myself from the expectations of others. Only when I separate myself from the constant pressure of retaining the ability to survive. But when those needs are met, when I feel completely safe — from financial collapse, from judgment — that’s when I look ahead. That’s when I strive forward. And I believe that every single human being in this world was born with that capacity. The desire to look forward, to create, to be.

Can every man be an artist? Perhaps not now, but I envision a future in which he can. In which manual labor can be done with our inventions alone and our minds are free to wander and wonder. To search the great vastness of this universe, but first, to understand our planet and ourselves. Every man was born an artist. And every man is capable of so much creative ambition, if only he didn’t have to worry about the little things. Those little things that are necessary for our survival, but by no means sufficient for our happiness. Once we can look past the little things, only then will we be able to truly come together and free our minds from the constraints of our bodies. Only then will the sheer brilliance of our ideas, in all their radiant, sparkling color, explode us into the darkness of the unknown. And the starlight emanated from each of us individually, together, will reach the deepest corners of our universe. The beginning, the end, and the spaces in between the lines. Truth will kneel before us, unreservedly, and offer us Perfection. And we will, without hesitation, accept.

Socializing is something at which I’ve never really excelled. Six months ago, I would have just considered myself an elitist, arrogant asshole and gone on with my life. But that’s not it at all. Sure, I’ve never exactly been Mr. Fuzzy-Wuzzy Cupcake-Baker Party-Planner Friend-Maker, but I don’t intentionally try and cause any sort of pain or discomfort to neutral parties. I’m not *mean*. I’m just tired.

Sometimes it just feels like the pacing is all off, you know? Some moments can feel like a thousand years of fire and light condensed into a glimmer of happiness, of emotion, that the world never notices. Only I do. Other times, weeks and months go by when everyone else is making friends, changing jobs, learning, experiencing, enjoying life. And I don’t experience any of that. Only the boredom and the drudgery of making it through the days.

Is it because I’m alone that I experience such a disjointed and scattered existence? Perhaps, I think, if I had friends, real friends, honest friends, the pacing might be a little more even. Less like an emission spectrum and more like a continuous one. Except the element in question would be my happiness and the range of possible wavelengths would be my life.

There’s so much inside me that wants to follow rules, that wants to live by someone else’s guidelines. It’s how I was brought up, I think. But there’s so much I could experience and learn, I could be so much freer, if I went my own way. But to understand what that way is…

It’s sort of like I’m in a forest at night, and I can only judge things by touch, by sound. And I want to be able to see, I want to be able to say, “This is how things are. This is the way the world works. This is how I succeed. This is what life means.” But I can’t. It’s not even that I can’t see the answer, it’s that there isn’t one, and yet I don’t have a choice but to keep trying. To keep failing. Even when I have no reason to keep trying, no reason to keep going, I do. I keep going. Fumbling in the dark. I have no choice, because I’m alive. And that’s what living people do.

Here’s the problem. I’m the person who needs to define everything. I’m the person who starts every proof with definitions and uses nothing but axioms. To me, there is no middle ground. There are the things we know, for sure, unfailingly, and there are the things that are lost in the fog of half-truths and obfuscations. But what do we know, for sure, about living?

There are things that exist. I exist. You exist. Water exists. Air exists.

We know they interact in certain ways. We have the laws of physics. So we can predict things. We can say “if A, with mass m and velocity v collides with a stationary B with mass m’, then whatthefuckever.” And that gives us power.

And that leads to even more, greater, possibilities. We can predict how people will act in times of crisis. We can predict whether entire economies will boom or bust, rise or fall. We can predict the motions of the planets, the stars, the galaxies. We have incredible power of prediction. But what is power without purpose?

What is knowledge without application?

What are people without direction? Without a goal? What are we, ultimately? And this cycle of life and death, joy and sadness, struggle and failure and success and promises and trust and anger and fear — what is it all for?

Let me tell you what I want.

I want to be happy. I want to be safe. I want to be able to eat a juicy piece of fruit every day of my life. I want color. I want the sky, open and free. I want accessible knowledge. I want to learn something, every day. I want music. I want a friend — one is enough.

I don’t want to be constrained by others. All the should’s and the have to’s and must’s. You can keep your expectations, sir. I don’t need them. Why should I care whether somebody else is happy with the way I live my life? It’s my life. Mine! And it’s all I have. So don’t you dare fucking try and take it from me.

Like I said, I’m not a mean person. But caged animals get angry before they get docile. I’m not going to be the lonely tiger at the zoo with sad eyes, who wishes he were somewhere else, somewhere free. I’m going to stay mean as long as it takes for me to get what I want. And I want to be free.

If life is about balance, then why does it seem like we’re sacrificing everything else for knowledge, power, money? Like we’re trying to funnel our lives into the one, universal, definition of success?

If life is about balance, then how is it that emotions can take control so easily? When faced with temptations such as sex, food, entertainment, drugs, alcohol — when faced with certain desires, one thing can take precedence over everything else.

If life is about balance, then why do I always complain about the same things?

Life is about balance only for those who want nothing from it. Only for those who desire nothing more than peace and ignorant bliss. Balance is a tool. Balance is a weapon. Balance can make our lives more stable, but it is not an end-all be-all. It is not the chief force. Balance does not drive the train. Desire does.

Do I know the perfect way to live? Of course not. I’m inconsistent, wild, foolish, forgetful. Disorganized, irresponsible, uncertain. Maybe there should be a guide book on how to live. Living for Dummies? Perhaps. But perhaps that book would consist of living “a certain way”. A way that may not fulfill everyone’s wishes. Only the wishes of the mass, the undulating sea of people on this great blue earth. The tired people. The faceless.

I don’t know how to live: I don’t know how to get what I want. But I know what I want. I really, really know what I want.

WHAT I WANT:

• To be as free as possible from the constraints of others. I am not a product of society. I am not a product of people. I am not an American, a human, a male, a gay. I’m not a college student, a music lover. I am not my name. I am not my family. I am me. Nothing else. I will not succumb to stereotypes. I will not do things simply because they are desired of me. I do not live for others. I live for myself.
• To be at peace with my organicity. To understand my own existence. To realize what it means to be made of flesh and bone. The functions of our brains and our bodies. What it means to be me. Consciousness.
• To be more than human.  To become stronger, smarter. To remove the limitations caused by these organic disruptions, by sex and hunger, cold and sleep. To see more, to know more. To replace emotions with logic, to be bound only by the desires for ultimate happiness, prosperity, safety.
• To create a world built on order. To refashion this earth, or another world, completely. From the bottom up. To test the engineering capabilities of our minds; to make a world that is functionally perfect.
• To lead the human race from uncertainty into an age of Logic and Truth. To show people how to see beauty in complexity, in elegance, instead of the banal, the instinctual. To fix our lives, the new, the old. To help us all be aware of our place in this blackness. I have so much faith in the human race. We are a beautiful species: fierce, intellectual, cognizant. We will make it. We’ll go on.
• To live forever. To see the universe from farthest corner to farthest corner. To see the end of it all, in all its tremendous fire and weight.