“Everything was good at the beginning, when it came from the hands of the Creator, but it all degenerated when humans laid their hands on it” Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I’ve been here for 2 years now and I cannot complain. The doctors have been really nice to me and tried to help as much as they could. But they just can’t understand – they are mere humans. Sometimes I just stay at the bared window and reflect about my situation. I can’t make out what’s important anymore; I can’t see the meaning of my life. Ever since my father died, I have become extremely numb, an addle-brained fellow, as he used to call every guy that got on his nerves. Knowing that now he gets all the answers he had been looking for all his life, I do not feel really guilty for what happened. However, life has been rather dreary since that day. I could easily convince my doctor that I’m fine, that I have realized I’m no different from any other and that I’m no longer a threat to society. But I often ask myself what is the point!
Frankly, I cannot live among people anymore. I need to be alone with my thoughts. Perhaps one day living creatures will understand the purpose of life, even though my father reached the conclusion that people are beyond any doubt some poor toads that are born, live and die without even knowing it. And after that: nothing – no trace of their existence will remain. I will not contradict him, but he also agreed every rule has its exceptions. A great man once said that through heroic will and imagination “people can turn the deepest despair into the highest hope”. *
This is why I believe everything is possible. I can honestly say I have had a troubled childhood. My mother died when she gave birth to me and I do not know too many things about her. He always avoided talking about this subject. I got the feeling she had never understood him. Anyway, he was my single parent, my mentor. He was able to inoculate in my mind every single one of his philosophical ideas about life. I was brought up to believe in our superiority to the rest of the world.
Never accepting the idea of failing, he said that people make mistakes because they are weak. Naturally, I was considered to be above that. He couldn’t stand ordinary people. This is why I spent most of my life in hermitage, because of his scorn for the people who didn’t ask themselves existential questions; he thought they didn’t deserve to exist.
“Son, they are just useless loafers that have to be dealt with because otherwise they create havoc. They need to be yoked and forced to help with the development of mankind. We are gods for those ignorant creatures, my child; we are centuries ahead on the scale of evolution.”
He was too radical, this was his weak point, and this is what led to his destruction. I remember that during those long days of confusion after his death I met a person to whom I wanted to express my philosophical beliefs. I was quite disappointed to realize that he didn’t have any idea of what I was talking about, that he had never read Kant or Mill or Descartes. That was one of the many shocks I had when I came across real life but I remember this one because his answer made me think.
“You consider yourself so wise because you know phrases dead people once said! I have just a simple question for you: what is a spade?” I had no idea so I remained speechless. That word meant nothing to me. “ I guess there is no point in asking if you have ever used one!”, he continued while leaving with a contemptuous expression on his face.
After I found out what he meant to say, I thought he was right in an odd way. I realized that people are indeed very simple but maybe they were created to be that way. My father and I were so wrapped up in studying the meanings of life without knowing the basics for survival. Shovels and spades have been used practically since the beginning of civilization. Nevertheless, I was too much of an emotional wreck those days to think this event carefully through. Luckily, now I have all the time in the world.
During those moments, I still saw life through my father’s eyes. I knew nothing but what he had told me. I thought the world would never understand the truth but I was the one that didn’t understand the world. I was blinded by his fury towards the human society and I couldn’t judge it objectively. I can do it now and the sad part is that some times I reach the same conclusions he did, but humans are so different that each one of us has his own personality and belief about the world he lives in. Unfortunately, some choose to ignore it and live a superficial life without any spiritual accomplishments.
I look at myself now and I’m no different from the child I was those times; and especially that day, the day when he died. I’m still not sure why he did it. Maybe he got bored of loneliness and decided that death would bring something new or perhaps he really thought he could control it as he considered himself divine. In either case, the outcome was definitely the most horrifying experience of my life. He had stabbed himself three times with his hunting knife. Wanting to hear his opinion about a philosophical novel I had just read, I went to his room only to find him agonizing between life and death. I could see my reflection of despair in a puddle of blood. His only fault was that he had disdained his fellow beings and had believed he was above them all. And in a certain way he was. On the other hand, if we approach the problem differently, there is no such thing as a successful philosopher because he seeks to answer questions that can’t be answered, that can’t be totally understood, while a mechanic for instance is supposed to repair cars and only does his job, without further questioning. Philosophers are bound to fail, so they’re not so different, so superior after all.
It’s hard to realize whether my father really understood that there is a clear distinction between humans and gods and that no matter what he did he will always belong to the first category. After his death, I couldn’t enter his room for months. I was more disturbed than ever. Nothing made sense anymore. I found myself in a totally new world I knew nothing about. However, I may have recovered if it hadn’t been for another strange event in my accursed life. Walking into his room, I noticed on his desk a couple of stains of blood that appeared to be shaped like letters. It said: “MAYA”. That was the moment it dawned to me. He must have written this damned word before he took his last breath cursing me forever, letting me know that he had seen all along.
A single word showed me my whole life was a mistake, that everything I had been taught was a stupid idea, an illusion, a mirage, a maya, the lowest degree of knowledge. The Hindus believe that all our wishes, our individual tendencies veil the true destiny that is in store for us. My father wanted to be superior because he was ashamed of the ignorance of his own race, but there are barriers that even he couldn’t overcome. His last reflection was to this Hindu word that expressed very clearly the reality I had to face. But for that word, I would have made it. On reflection, there was nothing for me to do on this Earth anymore. I was somewhere in the middle and I will always be.
I have lived all my life far away from people and I cannot adapt myself now. I considered them lower than animals so I will never be able to fit in. However, I discovered I’m just like them but they will never understand me. All that remained for me to do was to preach for evolution, to make illusions possible. But humans are not ready for that and will corner everyone who is, for now. That’s how I got to this mental institution. They examined me and reached the conclusion I was insane. Perhaps I am – it’s just that I don’t care anymore. I’ll just wait for this illusion to end so to start a greater one in the realm beyond death. Another misleading, another mirage, another maya...