He rejected fear.
Fear of the unknown, fear of death, fear of a non-existent God .
You have to overcome yourself before you can overcome anything else. Before you can stand up to the world and save it.
He moves around with a holy air. Death clings to him, close and pungent, but he wears it like a badge. Proud.
Did I believe in God? No. But I feared his existence. He must exist. And if he didn’t…then it was my duty to become him.
He’s wild. His ghost-eyes bulging with excitement. A madman.
There was another. A younger man. He was the embodiment of my beliefs. Yet…he couldn’t handle the strain. When he disposed of himself it was out of guilt…he was a rough person, a bit of an outsider. Definitely cruel. I had hopes for him.
He was the perfect nihilist in his actions and beliefs.
But he killed himself out of fear.
He seems more disappointed than anything else while recounting the story of his friend and his cruelties.
You look unhappy.
You are only unhappy because you do not know that you are happy.
It’s man’s greatest weakness.
I found out I was happy on Wednesday.
I know…because I stopped the clock right then.
He turns to face the window and I see the morning gray through a hole in the side of his head.
He’s absolutely absurd. Abstract. Ideas and thoughts fall from his mouth like Cubism, thick with Russian and Nechayev.
I ask if he found God, if he was correct in his beliefs. If his suicide saved his people. He spreads his arms and gives me his best messianic smile.
I found myself through the purest exercise of free will.
As for my friends, my people…they can only be saved if they want to be.
I cannot force freedom and happiness on those that fail to believe in those possibilities.
I died for them, but they would never die for me.
Maybe that is what makes me a God-man. Unconditional, immortal love.