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The journey of the self is one that can be through the destruction of that self. By this "self-destruction" I do not refer to self-harm, nor self-shaming. I simply say, that a more realist individual, most often than not, realize that they are not that important, both publicly and sometimes privately. In my journey to exit my state of ignorance, I have realized that perhaps I, as an individual, am not that important practically.
I wrote tons about myself, but it isn't because of a deluded superiority, necessarily. I am simply a naive person who have turned to philosophical contemplations, in order to minimize this absurd naivety.
Since I believe I know myself more than anything else, I used this simply for my attempt at logic-based reasons: Serving as an example, providing testimony on something I experienced, and so on. The main reason I did so is from a functional standpoint, and not due to a deluded sense of greater self-worth.
I hope it was at least understood by at least some of you, as I live in a physical solitude, and as a result, I do not experience many things beyond the mental and physical "prisons" of my mind.
I use philosophizing as a form of escapism that I believe is worthy to be deemed productive. I cannot do much else, both due to my ignorance, and both due to a disability, which basically ruined my future as it seems from this point in time.
I feel imprisoned, and maybe I am from a specific point of view. I do not talk of this prison because I like it, nor love it. It is simply what I mainly know. This isn't mainly about physical solitude, but also the fact that I see literally no reason to love naivety as a philosopher. Since I was born and grown, I was naive in at least one way or another, and as a result, have probably known less than others, despite being regarded as intellectual for some reason by those who have read my work.
My original name was Tom and I hate that name's guts, so I felt a great desire to change it officially, which I did earlier this year. It has two meanings in Hebrew: The End, and Innocence/purity. These values are not philosophical!
Quite the opposite! The belief in certain endings, as known from the start, is a defeatist and deluding idea! Why even do anything, why even try anything, such as improving one's understanding, when it does not necessarily change the end, whatever it may be? Is my life but the story of how they come into their ending? Why succumb to a possibility that pretends to appear as a definitive ending?
Second! Why is naivety something that is to be praised? Where is awe when I am cheerfully told that my head is hot because I think a lot? Absurd! Shallow! Where is the awe in deluding myself, that my head requires a fan during the winter, because I think a lot, per se?
What kind of logic is this, that is justified, purely by a wonderous assumption? Why would I even write that this is the reason for the brain to probably be producing this heat, just to sound like a phony pseudo-intellectual, who thinks awe alone is sufficient for philosophizing?
Childhood! It is a flawed life period! You are not as capable of independence, not self-defence necessarily, and you might be spending much of your life, hearing noise and yells just because of a public education system? Every day! Yell after yell.
And no, I was too naive to resist this constant force of sound to my ears. I was once told that childhood is a great thing to have in life, and that if I were an adult, like nowadays, I will desire to return to it... How ironic. I may be very disabled, but at least I now have far greater freedom than a forced youth student!
I am not that great, not because I did any villainous act or something, but because, beyond my writings, I am pretty much unremarkable. Hence why I say that my work is more important than me, and to be frank, I see nothing wrong in it. The only reason I am writing this article, is for you to have a better clarification on this issue, in case you might think, that I'm either delusional, narcissist, or both.
I must advocate for myself because I also represent my work, and not just myself. If I will be left misunderstood, so can be my writing, too! I reflect on them as much as they do on me. While it is more important, I believe, that the sayings are more important than the one who said them, unfortunately it isn't necessarily the case nowadays!
He or she who have more followers, their sayings are "more important", than the one with lesser exposure. What can I do, most of us humans are social animals, and perhaps even more, are political. The connection between the writer and the writing is that which is not as easy to separate, especially when one can be better understood, by knowing the other, and vice versa.
If the individual won't explain themselves alone, others won't necessarily do so, unless one is in court, usually, and needs a lawyer. Should I not explain my intentions enough, they can easily be overlooked, and be replaced with delusional ones instead, in others' minds! Of course, I don't need your approval, and I don't need your love -- but what is a writer, without him or her being understood as intended?
I don't like pretending in general, and likewise, pretending to be knowledgeable in a field that I am not in. Thus, what harm there is, to speak from yourself, about yourself, when you are stuck, in the prison, that is yourself?
A prisoner might only love their cell, because they are used to it. If they never been in that specific cell, or in prison in general, why would they like being in that cell? Therefore, beyond what some may describe as "health", for some reason, I no longer see the logical reason for one to love themselves, when they are stuck inside it, anyways.
When you are married you can at least walk out of the door and file a divorce. You can't divorce yourself, and therefore, are basically "forced" to be within yourself, with all of its potentials... and limitations.
The self is not only a cell but a tool, too. Beyond what I am capable to do still, I really don't see why to like the self. I am merely using myself as two things: As a writer, and as the one who represents his work. This is my website, but the website is essentially what I live for, and not live, from. It's a tool I use that justifies my reasoning to see myself a tool too, if it makes sense.
I don't really see myself as human, and not necessarily an alien. I am merely a brain with hands that record and share the brain. Beyond the rights that allow me to be a writer freely and to live, the other rights are not as important to me, even if they are recognized as human rights. Beyond going to the election ballot, I don't really care that I'm an Israeli, or a person in a Jewish and democratic country, which is the only one in the world as of now.
I am in a cell, per se, and this computer is my window to the world, where I can also speak to, and be remembered, as a result! Without this window, I will not be just imprisoned, but also, in solitary confinement!
What is so great about this philosophical prison? My head is so hot, even with winter and with a fan, and for some reason, some might think I think highly of myself, just because this head, this neurological oven that boils my consciousness, belongs to a philosopher, and trap him inside, for a lifetime!
Even if this head might not be cooled down, I hope that you know that this head is not that important, to the one trapped in it. I don't want this head to appear on sphinxes, on statues! Only at least when credited for its work. It is a basic respect -- and none more.
Writing distracts me... from my heat. Maybe it would've been different, with a different head; A head, that isn't as ill. Philosophers are not important just because of their niche! Mere generalization!
