Or maybe in my afterlife

The calendar says it all: we’re half way through October. The month passed and flared and fell without a sound and disintegrated into fragments of recollections. Tonight, I feel like a house that has not been inhabited for a very long time.

Sometime this year I’ve lost qualms for, well, everything. I’ve grown apolitical. I’ve learned to close my eyes and ignore the cries and misery of others. Yes, the social reality still catch up on me — the unjustness of it all, the unnecessary deaths, the cruelty of the world, the vested interests of the oppressors — but I’ve misplaced the willingness to stand and defend a discarded cause.

I feel like a lost forest filled with lonely trees, and I prefer to walk away.

To walk away and seek you and unravel the fabric of the universe and at the end of this quest, to find you. My vision shrunk to that myopic proportion — caring for fundamentally nothing but that precise moment of seeing you once more. Maybe in your rebirth. Or maybe in my afterlife.

If I have to, I will slice this world just to be near you again.

Until then, I shall continue battling life — the perpetual boredom, the difficult days, the grueling evenings. Tonight marked another year of survival on my end, 26 so far. I think you should congratulate me. I think I, at least, deserve that.

Actually, in the context of our everyday struggle and tiny victories, we all do.

In its most desperate, human way, I miss you. Why do you have to go where I cannot follow?

Fudge Factors

So last night, I was watching a lecture video about dishonesty. They’ve conducted an experimental study to determine people’s propensity to lie, and to employ Fudge Factor, an ad hoc quantity used to justify a certain error or incident.
In the conduct of the study, participants were asked to answer relatively easy questions, and were deliberately placed in a time-constrained environment to prevent them from accomplishing the test.
They were then asked to take their papers to the shredding machine and report the number of questions they’ve met in exchange of money. Some reported 6 or 7, others as high as 20.
The thing is: the answer sheets were not shredded at all. And on average, participants were only able to pin down 3-4 questions. The researchers were robbed in the process — but this is, of course, the core of their inquiry. To determine the rationale behind dishonestly, and in the process, to curb the behavior.
The study found that various Fudge Factors play a pertinent role in its existence. Say, those who willfully commit dishonesty tend to justify their behavior: (1) Everyone is doing it anyway; (2) I was genuinely convinced that I was doing it for the welfare of my child; (3) I only took a small amount, unlike the others, which made my action relatively legitimate; and (4) etc.
Findings revealed that, in the macro-settings, the collective total of those who took small amount of money and justify their dishonesty using Fudge Factors is significantly higher than those who took large sum in one go.
This is due to the fact that the number of individuals who genuinely fail to see the grave misconduct in their act due to Fudge Factors is higher than those who recognize their crimes at the onset.
It is interesting.
But it’s more interesting in the micro-settings, especially when you stand witness to it: the Fudge Factors, the dishonesty, the small amounts in small pockets, and the brazen face of swindling.