Sunday, October 15, 2006

Who am I? (Part 3 - Still in The '60s)

I haven't finished telling you about the Sixties. All my friends were just like me and to us it seemed like an incredible decade. We would meet up and swap stories about what we had gotten up to. It was really savage. At first I was embarrassed becuase they seemed to have had much more experience than me - but that only served to make me go even wilder. And, because, I had to be the best, when I didn't have anything to tell I would just make it up...
Even as I was preparing for my exams to go to a university in the city, I made sure that I didn't miss out on a single opportunity to go binging. What was it that produced so much pleasure? I thought it was being different, going against the establishment, pushing the envelope over the edge. I did things precisely because they were not allowed. I did them with my band of friends. Looking back, if I had been alone, I wouldn't have done them at all.

And yet, all that time, I wasn't happy! Sometimes I knew that God could cure my soul. I knew it. But I didn't want it. I didn't have the strength to want it. I wasn't helped by the fact that the idea I had of God was false: a sort of ghost. Nothing real or definite. Did I try to pray? Yeah, sometimes. And each time I did I was like someone slipping on a banana skin: I'd fall flat and end up talking to myself. I was trapped in my own little world. A world of my making and I didn't like it. I had set out to be myself, to find myself - and I didn't like what I had found. It was as if I was locked in a room where I couldn't bear staying but from which I couldn't escape. Where could my heart go to escape from my heart? How could I flee from myself?
It was only at the very end of the Sixties that I was able to leave home and get away...

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