Don Mann: Focusing on my Craft

Friday, Dec. 26, 2003 - 10:28 p.m.

Suddenly I need a big reminder why not to hate myself.

Knowing others care simply isn't enough anymore. True feelings start inside oneself and develop there. No amount of someone else saying "I don't hate you, so don't hate yourself."

That doesn't work anymore. I want a solid, tangible reason to keep myself going, some kind of goal or sense of purpose that will compel me. Something powerful, a sense of reason. Right now all I see when I look at myself is ugliness. All my life the world softened the blow by trying to tell me that looks don't matter, appearances are not important. Well, they matter to ME. Lots of things that have been pounded in my head all my life I'm starting to realize are bullshit. My appearance means a lot to me...and I know that it means tons to other people. In 19 years I still haven't gotten over my own appearance. I remember being 5 years old wondering why I look so much different than everyone else, why I was the ugly duckling in a flock of swans. Well, I sure grew up to be as hideous as any outcast. There are a million ways to polish it up, make it seem a little brighter or soften the blow. Each one is merely a lie. I need to find a way to cope with who...or what I am. I know I'm ugly, I know what I am. It doesn't matter what I do because the first thing the world sees when they meet me is this fiendish beast staring back at them, no one dares look into the windows of the soul anymore, cares to tear beneath the surface.

I'm not saying I'm a good person, either. All I know is that I care more for others than I care for myself. My life may end but the preservation of another life matters more to me. I may be a nice person, but no one will ever know. Even those that pretend to see or pretend to care wouldn't go out in public with a creature like me.

I'm beginning to lose sight on humanity. Is the human a beautiful creature, built with symmetry and lacking blemishes? I just don't know. The soul means nothing. All of life's pleasures and sorrows somehow connect with this physical manifestation of the being. One day this soul will be set free, and then, if all goes as I believe, will again be condemned to another body. Perhaps in the next life I will be a "beautiful idiot" just as our beloved Daisy put it in The Great Gatsby. I can only hope...

Delve Into The Past - Onward Into The Future