Written in 2016, mislaid until now…
Confrontation and noise, comfort and convenience. That’s how the devils rule. They either render us overconfident or make us doubt ourselves. They turn against ourselves, our loved ones, our kind, our kin. Nothing undermines existence like self-mutilation. The devils know this well. They know their business.
My name is Joe Everyman, and I see their plans more clearly than ever, today more than yesterday, with tomorrow just around the corner. The whole plan is laid out in plain sight: the devils’ aim is to dance around us, fill us with electricity and righteousness, make us come up with ways to justify their means in the name of ‘a way out of the deadlock’.
Diabolic genius at work. I bow to its mastery.
But I’m not falling for the ruse. I’m no longer anesthetized. No more anger, rage, or feelings of self-loathing. I love myself now, the way I deserve. I love the people around me: the friends who undermined me, the family who let me down, the society who orders me around, the love that cripples me and the life that kills me – I accept them all.
Time to get back in the game. Make things work again. Add my two bits to the process. Maybe I can contribute and make a difference.
I take a deep breath and step back into the world. It feels right and is a huge relief. And then – bang! There goes the relief, just like a popped balloon. The wicked genius at work, I see it – the part that made me kick back and think everything will be all right – when the truth is an ugly and mean reminder that nothing will be all right. Those who don’t have my best interests at heart are still around, doing what they do in the way they’ve been doing it all this time, leading to the same old situation. Everything is designed to serve their needs, and it suits them if I deem myself free because doing so keeps me distracted. It pulls the wool over my eyes and strengthens their stranglehold.
It’s an insidious plan, and pretty airtight, the likes only the devils can put together. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, and the plot thickens. The game continues no matter what. By recognizing the devils and what they do, how they drive everyone and their grandmother and their disillusioned kin children against each other, what have I achieved? I’ve laid down my arms, made peace, appealed to reason and accepted the harsh realities of this world for what they are. Or, to put it bluntly, I’ve allowed the sinister game to go on.
And the mayhem continues, unchallenged, unabashed, feasting on the human spirit by force of din, confusion and outrage, in the wake of a circus as loud and colorful as a devil’s practical joke. Parties for the mad, noise everywhere, entertainment – I mean what a show this is. Not only does it never stop, it adds everyone to its supporting cast, growing meaner and louder.
My name, as I already mentioned, is Joe Everyman, but you can’t believe anything I say. I may be one of the devils after all (how droll! even the idea puts me to sleep – but since it stirs you up, I’ll play along). You can’t trust anything I say.
And when I say that my real name is EON, child of Time, you shouldn’t believe me. You should disregard everything I say and go about your lives as you know best, and everything will be all right.
Vexed? Watch this space for more.
From the collection of writings EON: THE ANGRY COMING OF AGE