The Crumbs of Philosophy

Last night I stayed up until I was completely exhausted. I was mulling over in my mind my life thus far, and strained myself in doing so. The memory of my time in the human world is fading rapidly every day I spend in the forest, so it takes a great deal of effort on my part to try to remember it, although for much of my history I did consult Bakey Man on the more specific details. His memories are generally unaffected by living in the woods, because he so often ventures out of here to work for money that he keeps a strong grasp on his humanness. This is not to say he is not becoming a wild, highly sentient creature like me, because every day he is losing his attachment and association with the outside world, it’s just that his remembrance of his former self remains untouched.

You can say Bakey Man is becoming a replica of me without the depression and with more childlike innocence. This is very good. I wish more people and animals would become like me. I think the result would be a very productive, worthwhile society. In my mind, the depression is part of this. Out of the mud…springs the bud. The bud of a flower. On the other hand, if Bakey Man managed to summon enough willpower and intelligence to craft a new world, it would inevitably fall apart because he does not possess the ability to see beyond his own happy nose.

One must recognize that the evil of humanity sprouted from the peaceful mountains and mounds of dirt. It is important that one must always be on the lookout for that which is unfavorable coming out of the goodness, which is what is bound to happen, unless the creative forces of the long-gone, lonely rejects oppose this bitter cycle. You see, I love all this, the trees that surround me and all, but I am always on guard. Nothing can be trusted, and it is my purpose to not trust anything. If only a small amount of people can persist in this way, in harmonious resistance to all of existence, the rest can live in utter happiness. Anyway, that is how I see things.

Bakey Man does not even understand these very words that I am making him transcribe. His eyebrows twitch in obvious confusion, although he tries to hide it. I’m sorry for making you so self conscious, but I am only using you as an example. You are a good friend and servant.

So you see, it is easy for me to be resigned to living in agony, because I realize that this is why I am alive. No, the “universe” or “nature” did not inject this meaning into me. I bred it into my very own bones. That is the beauty of the unknown realm; individuality actually exists, trust me.