Passion and Truth are too disturbing

I entered the subway. There were no vacant places, so I sat down next to a girl you couldn´t possibly ignore.
And yet, that´s what I did, knowing how arrogant and obnoxious good-looking women often are, I turned my back on her, writing what I had in mind for the moment, feeling at ease, managing to catch my idea.
Here is what I wrote:

“The so-called modern mind is eternally occupied. An occupied mind is unspeakably mechanic and redundant, totally uncreative, blind, yes, impotent – nothing more or less.
This witless mind is always aroused, greedy and horny for pleasure,
but only on a mental level – passion and emotional fulfillment being to it like dawn to a vampire.
Any spontaneous, genuine and undaunted feeling is its greatest threat.

It doesn´t hear, it doesn´t see, it refuses to live.”

Finishing my text, I was looking to a woman sitting on the other side at my right. The air around her felt unsettling, she had a pale and wearisome countenance. Rather insipid a person, but there was something about her absent-looking eyes which drew my interest, so I started sketching her.

Being almost done with my drawing, I felt how the hot girl beside me was watching interestedly my last ink lines.

- Exciting huh …?
- Really, a very nice drawing, she said intrigued.

She was sexy. Rather corpulent, but very attractive. You could feel her presence, her strong libido.
She wore a short skirt, she was generously displaying her thighs.
What a sight…you could besiege her on the spot.
She went on:

- Impressing what a beautiful handwriting you have.
- Thank you!… Do you also paint?
- Yeah, actually I do.
- What…? People?…
- Everything… Why limit myself to only painting people? she said almost irritated.
- You mean that man is no longer interesting, a desirable subject to approach?…
- There are other things more interesting than man.
- Like what…?
- Everhting else…
Anyway, she went on, WHAT WERE YOU WRITING THERE…? I hardly understand a thing…she leaned towards my sketch pad trying to decipher my writing about “modern mind”.

- Well, about things we don´t usually talk about. About…

Instantly, before finishing the sentence, I felt how she flinched, startled. She cut me off at once – she kind of felt tacitly that what I had just written, would have been too much for her to hear.

- Truth us disturbing, isn´t it?… You´re afriad to hear what I wrote.
- Well…I prefer lies. Yes, truth is too disturbing. Disagreeable and often offensive. We´ve been lying for so long, at least for 50 years now
- 50 years or 2000 years…?
- Well, whatever…YOU HAVE TO LIE IF YOU WISH TO HAVE ANY CONTACT WITH PEOPLE. That is our way to communicate. Our prevalent code. I couldn´t believe my ears.
- Do you really have to…? What a waste of time. Why should I lie, I have not time for lying.
- Yes, but that is how we have become accustomed to live – through lies. I was dumbfounded:
I know that I live in mendacity but I will continue to lie, that´s what she basically said.
- Can´t we fucking break this custom for a change? I was almost reaching my station.

- We can continue this discussion on another occasion. Besides you are a painter, can´t we get together some time?
- How can I go out with you, you are a stranger…?
- You do claim you are an artist. What kind of artist are you if you don´t dare taking any risk?
- Well, I don not know who you are…
- No my dear, you don´t know WHO YOU ARE. If you did, you would see me exactly the way I am.
NOW YOU JUST SEE YOUR FEARS IN ME. For the record, I don´t know who
you are either, you can be a dangerous rapist.
I had managed to put a smile on her face.
- I maybe am, who knows?… she went on. For sure, she was seemingly horny but awkwardly repressed.
- I think you are, but have a hard time to admit that, I said facetiously. I think you have a powerful energy of sorts..
- What do you mean by that? She knew exactly what I meant, but was pretending not to understand.
- You kind of emanate vigour, a strong feminine impetus. She was evidently intrigued
as I could clearly sense that.
I can give you my card, I told her. Let´s meet up some time, I am sure we can inspire each other, can´t we…?
- We´ll see…You can give me your card. She had already started to think.
- Let´s drop it. I had taken out a visit card, but promptly put it back in the wallet. There was no meaning in giving her that. She was too timorous – too afraid to live.

The train was reaching my station.

- I will get off now.
- Have a nice evening!
- I don´t need a nice evening, I already have a good time.

Yes my friends, this is the moral:

Most of the people are very much aware of their lies. They very well know their life is a sham and total pretense and yet continue with this dire way of “living”. If everybody lies, I lie.
If everybody around fails to have a life, I better fail too. It is democratic.
Why allow myself feel, be alive, unfold my passion, relying on my joy…? I choose to distrust myself and others, I choose to disrupt and thwart against any natural urge, desire and nearness – I know I am
a coward, but I intend to remain one.

Cowardice is our chosen share.
Distress, unfulfillment and unhappiness is most people´s conscious choice.

Such people, such society.

WE HAVE THE CIVILIZATION WE DESERVE TO HAVE!!