11-13-2007, 10:20 PM
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[/html]if this makes no sense, whap me.
"If you care about something, some place, or someone, survival isn't just survival anymore. When your only objective ―" he broke off for a moment, thinking of more simplistic ways to say just what he wanted to say, frowned, and then continued, "― your only goal ― is to survive, nothing has any meaning anymore and you eventually come to realize it even if you didn't think that way in the beginning. When you care, somehow life has a meaning. I wouldn't know much about that, though. You either care or you don't." And he really didn't. "Meaning creates reasons which create chaos. Suddenly everything you think is true, isn't." He had no idea what affect this would have on the young coyote, and who was he to claim this as the bottom line of reality? Arkham would surely learn to think for himself and decide what he might. His questions represented a growing intelligence. Whatever some scarred, black monster (whose sanity was arguably unverified) spoke of, in the end, bore no ground. It was an assumption he would not make ordinarily, but the kid wanted answers about his perspective, and he had no problem giving it whatever the consequences. It wouldn't be his problem when all was said and done.
"But then, maybe truth doesn't exist." It was so easy to make yourself believe anything, but there was no way to be assured that there was any concrete truth concealed in it at all. It was safer to not believe anything ― to never question and yet never stop questioning. It was simpler to believe that there was no truth at all, no concrete details, no solid ground. He knew the weight of emotion and the broad spectrum of aspects it was usually given free reign to control, and he would never give it control. He would never hand over that control. Surviving was the basics, consisting of the very fundamentals of life. If they became skewed or dysfunctional in his mind, he would die anyway, and it wouldn't matter anymore.