The Philosophers Agony.

I want to write something amazing. I want to write something beyond my own capabilities, something I could be proud of. I want to manipulate the English Language so beautifully, the elite would be the only select few to understand it. I want to be the creator of something so marvelous, so exclusive, it would take essay's to explain.

I guess I'm just tired of being the created. I desire more. It's within me to want more. It's an innate, tangible object that's only real to me. I know what is forbidden to know. Its the forbidden love that's killed the elite. Its the forbidden that's been detrimental to the future of so many. None have been able to attain it without a precious cost. Too many have concluded the cost to be worth it. But is it?

Am I alone in this agony of consistent Fear and Trembling? Am I in solitude for a future in plasticity? To long for ignorance is the root of all evil, the forbidden tree. I desire to be Adam, the man prior to the fall, prior to intellect. I find awareness to be worth too much. I find philosophy, syllogisms, logistic accuracy worthless without the essence of pure, undefiled purpose.

Who cares if A=C, so long as I enjoy life, right?
A can equal whatever it wants to, as long as I can be whatever I want to.

And yet, its the issue of questioning, of writing this exact blog that I desire so much to run away from.