I am a prisoner and a liar - but I am being framed.

Entrapped by my own set of moral values, I allow the truth, or my version of it, to be diluted. Entombed by my own utilitarian ideals, I allow my subjectivity to place a stranglehold upon objectivity until a situation arises where said objectivity is rendered subjective. Imprisoned by my irrational sense of order and discretion, I grasp at arrows in my quiver, and try to hit the mark of truth - only to find that my arrows are blunt and heavy, and they miss.

Aristotle has thus defined humanity and how he can achieve a good life through exercising of his function: the ability to reason. But such is the irony of the road that I have taken, to reason myself into irrational thoughts, to veil the truth inside a prism I call my mind. What life am I living where I value primal instincts over the ability to exercise my unique function, blessed only to humans.

Am I no better than a cow or bear, deer or boar? For beneath my yearning of a more philosophical pursuit in life, lie the spellbinding genes hard-wired into my DNA. Beneath a slowly blossoming mind, lies the need to be human, all too human. This itself is inescapable - and it plagues me. Oh the cruelty of being human to be blessed with the power to reason, and to understand - only to be cursed with the intrinsically bound effects of my primal ancestors.

And this is my real plague. For as much as I would adore a Libertine lifestyle in pursuit of an existential/misanthropic living, I cannot escape the fact that it would render me an outcast - an outlier - in a time of humanity that still refuses to accept boundless individualism.