Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

I’ve been meaning to write for some time now,  §

but there hasn’t been a moment at which I both wanted to write while at the same time also having time to write.

I’m still not sure that I’ve arrived at such a moment. I have other, pressing things to do and I’m not in a particularly good state of mind.

But I did want to observe something about all of these years of blogging and all of the many long years of periodic despair and indignation that friends and family have seen me go through, some of them worrying if it was a matter of depression or “emotional problems” as they say.

It isn’t and it never was. The despair that I feel on days like today is, quite simply, a despair at the way things are. Not about my own shortcomings, not even about the suffering on earth, but more a kind of helpless anger and sense of betrayal at what other human beings are—it is the values that they “hold dear” that cause me despair, the things that they claim as rights, the practices that they embrace as “right.”

It is not the despair of the depressive but the despair of the malcontent that I feel. A despair at capitalism. A despair at individualism. A despair at “freedom” (read: western style liberalism). Yes, all of these things cause me despair. And the fact that by proclaiming that they cause me despair, I place myself solidly in the role of sociopath, outcast, criminal, untouchable, evil—that also causes me despair.

There has always been a constant dialectic for me between wanting to be part of human society, wanting human connection, and the deep sense of anger and indignation that I feel about the very structure of society and my inability to express it if I want to be a part of society.

I don’t like the way things are. And more to the point, I don’t like the “idealistic dreams” that people have for society. That’s what causes me despair… the fact that I don’t seem to share in the universal dreams of humanity. In fact, they seem ugly to me. I have opposite dreams. I can either keep them to myself and live as a hypocrite, feeling a deep, unexpressed indignation at the bulk of human discourse and action, or I can openly embrace my own moral universe and in the process cut myself off from most other humans and from most opportunity that sustains the barest physical comfort.

Today again I’m feeling stuck in the middle of this tension, feeling as though life itself is a kind of ingenious hazard or trap in which, as everyone knows, you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

In short, you are damned, and that’s worth despairing over.

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