Here I am again, standing between religion and impiety. Every single beat of strong emotion, usually despair, anxiety, sadness, desperation, wrath, dissatisfaction, distaste, boredom, depression, lethargy may bring about a strong sense of determination. The heart is burned, the eyes are teary, and the exhaustion is heavy.

Surely, now, I feel that there is nothing more welcomed than torrents of pleasure coming from good companies. Good companies that provide me with merriment, if every single community bears some kind of darkness that I grieve about. Surely, these people know that I am very well not adequate in many things, yet these people are very well content. Are they that adequately living? Do they not want more? How much more do they want? How little more do they want?

Is it a good sign that I thirst so badly for change? Is it healthy for a man to be so sick of his conditions?

Many years I have felt a constant loneliness. First, it was when I was impressed by a group of theologians, who revealed to me what truth is. There were series of chauvinistic competitions battling against philosophies of ages past, which seemd to claim to have an answer to everything. They do have answers to some things. They do give me stronger roots of faith, of Christianity, which is otherwise readily mocked and raped in the large part of Europe.

I am sure that tradition is as much an inhibition as a preserver of progress. If something had worked in the past, it might as well be preserved until it was readily changed. However, having been considered a highly regarded treasure, men are living in a certain morbid morality of self-righteousness.

Eventually, we all need to believe in something to be good, and being of a good character, as we may like to see ourselves as, live according to that which we believe is good and true. That is all good and well, individually. Yet, communally, it is utterly frustrating.

For then, we ought to praise someone's moral character, if out of something that they believe is good, even if we think that that person is unlikely to be right.

Who then in America or in Europe do praise the Muslim extremists who believe in their hearts that they are doing something good? Simply, out of instinct, we will first react at how wrong it is to harm others. An individual religious faith, backed by strong constitutions and community.

Or swerve to the other side and say that it is indeed wrong by arguing in terms of natural common human rights, or to laws, or whatever. Surely, at the end of the day, it is the matter of that it is inadequate for a religious belief to be repressed by a series of reasons, which, if profound, were only taken as authoritative because no one had been more profound. Which is, also, a good reason to take those reasons, because otherwise we will no longer listen to the best reasons we've had so far.

Yet, as the romantics have strongly argued, the heart which was full of sensations, knew certain things. If a Christian would lose a debate to an atheist, it wasn't easy for him to go and abandon Christianity for a mere intellectual exchanges. Perhaps, he wasn't ready to change for so many reasons. Perhaps, it was against his historical upbringing, culture, society, whatever. Similarly, it wasn't easy for an atheist to believe in Christianity either. Christians believe (and I still hold this dearly, mind you) that it is because the Holy Spirit will not work. Perhaps, the Holy Spirit rarely decides to work in such occassions, if ever. There seems to be a somewhat very Christian method to work the Holy Spirit in some ways. Are they still pondering upon tricks, such as displays of kindness? Ah, how small our minds are.

Some people at this point may go, what is his point? Where will all these lead to? They probably have never read letters of reflection, or they are strict followers of systematic writing, as if the heart should always be coherent and cohesive.

When I was younger, my obsession was directed at seeking after the truth.

Sometimes, the quest has been somewhat diminished by the madness of this world, or the meaning of the truth itself. What is it for me?

Well, for the large part, truth has given me life, a hope for an eternal salvation, but descriptive truths as they are, are nothing more than information upon which you may want to spit upon or throw in a pool of acid fire.

I was also obsessed with success, acknowledgement, fame, power, but never money, because I wasn't a master of it or neither was I well endowed. It seemed that I had wanted everything I thought I could aspire to achieve.

Sin is deep within us. We are all savages, creatures hungry of pleasure, vanity and hypocrisy as a constant side dish.

A large broken man I am that I have very few instances of reflections of love of nurturing others, of nourishing others, of helping others. It's as if I am never happy that others are getting better because of me, because I feel that I should be getting better, not them.

There is a large distress of social and cultural differences. I am a mixture of a rogue and education. I am a mixture of the west and the east. I desire for a friend, but have found many people wanting, especially those who first come up to me and say, "Have you been a good friend yourself?"

I tried to gather round with those whose world I had discovered a long time ago, and felt that sort of darkness that wasn't felt anywhere else.

However, there was forever distress elsewhere.