Vindication

 There is a profound vindication of life. One that disavows the indifference of suffering and the ardency of suffering. There, as a result, is what we call justice: the longevity of human life. A dichotomy of an all encapsulating word and the antonym of it; the balance, thereby a vindication. This vindication, a new consciousness, requires a means of production; must create a means to an end of this screw of suffering. Dealing with a reconciliation of the subconscious; these judgements of the external world, this malicious, ill-informed judgement yet encapsulating an enduring cheer for life. It is this life that is defined to be semantic, one that every human has a definition of its nature: unresolved anger yet an indifference with the external, a hope for a backworldness in which to dictate life; all of which is a rejection of the external world. It is these revolts, vindication of human suffering that carries so much shame and a cry for eudaimonia; this rejected aspiration for a sensual vindication.

This vindication isn’t an imperative; it’s a clumsy attempt at an outlook for destiny; reconciliation with the external world in the means of an unbothered instinct. The openness for judgement, yet not so clumsy to accept rejection, yet clumsy enough to love the eyes of the foe. A clumsy imperative in which one shows their suffering in the present moment; forgetting another reality in which they flourish.
There is a science as well in this field of spirituality, one that medicates this suffering; creating a judgment on the means of living life, thereby medicating the shame of suffering. One can but not question the infallibility of this imperative but accept it as a means of healing this pain instead of pure rejection: courage for an unresolved conflict.
There lies an imperative we must aspire yet question, but reject so clumsily. An imperative and vindication our instincts selfishly desire. An expense and rejection on the wellbeing of society and consciousness. A subconscious strive for suicide and acceptance of an ineptitude we all carry for every ounce of shame.
There in the distance lies an uncanny foe shouting, misguiding a trust in ourselves, asking to conform to their spiritual identities, so persuasive and indignant but not yet rhetorical enough to lose trust. Their eyes gleam too much with hope, showing a vindication of their misguided but guided attempts for lucidity. This collective we all share but must reject is also an imperative. To follow so loosely tied to a destiny we can’t control, but be so clumsy as to reject.
There, our innate cliché we can’t accept but have to present to a foe to communicate by the means of our rejection of that shame we can’t accept.
There a drug we need to fill that void of a lonely soul. A drug built on the voided capital we need to flourish. A drug we are ignorant to but the most important.
There, the uncanny world, we will always lack the information to compute a reality except to be rejected with the shame of being inept. Thus, an irrefutable lust for power and pride.
The question thus is whether we must dream and live the regulated unfortunate life or not dream and live the unregulated unfortunate life. It’s a rhetorical question, but that’s the unfortunate part. I’ve so far been nihilistic, but I believe it was a warranted part in describing our consciousness and vindication. Warranted in part to defend the capitalism that detriments our relationship with the external. But with this proposition, it is this unregulated misfortune that demands an instinctual capital to regulate the antonym of progression.
We can be so well defined and well versed, but we will always judge this capital and be wrong and right in doing so. It is this perspectivism that fuels and progresses the sociology and social sciences. With this invention of the external world, we are no different than fish looking for food but not innocent enough to be eaten by bigger prey.