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I have finally realized why I appreciate the dark so much, why I relate to it so well and feel so welcome in it. It is because I can hide in it, become as nonexistant. And in fact, that is what I should be: nonexistant.
I am a cosmological mistake. I should not be here. I am cosmologically speaking 'space hogging.' I regret the space that I have stolen from the one who rightfully should have it, the food that could have benefitted another's frame, the employment that would have offered another a humble livelihood. Why do I say this?
Well, my father is gay. He was pressured by representatives of christianity to marry to end his homosexuality and truncate his attraction to men. In capitulating to the church, he along with my mother created me.
Had the man who would become my father stayed true to his nature, and had he successfully resisted the church's coercion (under threat of hell, of course) to marry and consummate, I would not be here. (And you would not be reading this.)
As it happened, I was thrust without cosmological intention or design into this world forever to be hogging or stealing the rightful place of someone else who also was born but now has to fend a different life path than the one he otherwise would have had.
While it was never at all discussed among any in my family, I wonder whether I, being the first born, was one of those mistakes, a surprise of conception.
I am not sure about this, but I am positive about the teleology of my birth: It had to have been a shock to God. Not even he had foreseen my creation. This is because my father had gone a path different from the one that God had intended for him, apart from the nature God had given him.
In fact, I sometimes go one step farther in my thoughts: Am I invisible to God who cannot, even now, a full half-century into my shadow existence, perceive me? For all his omniscience, is he not aware that I was born and now live? This would explain at least in part the divine silence and my congruence with it.
For I truly feel at peace in total silence, at rest in complete darkness. How else can one explain the comfort I experience in a cemetery? Shiva is my God; he is the owner of absolute stillness.
I already know what death will be like, as those in their graves do too. It is the end of existence. But for me it will also be the rectification of a cosmological and teleological freak of fate.
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