Okay, this is a story about Artemis and about him pondering the topic of souls. I copy-right several paragraphs to my essay about philosophy (ahahah!!! finally!!!) I can't promise its original, 'cuz frankly I have no idea, so well, here. Oh yeah, other then the essay I own no one. Oh, and this was slightly inspired by the lyrics of the song 'Faust, Midas and Myself' by Switchfoot. Lyrics linked:

Debating on the topic of souls; what is a soul? Exactly? Is there tangible and conclusive evidence for it? Is there a single empirisistic view that supports the existence of souls? A wide variety of origins of views, at least? Is there a rationalistic view that supports the soul? No. We have no reason to believe in a soul, ergo why should we? What caused us to start believing? Honestly, do you believe that time was created by god? Somehow I doubt it. Strongly. I may accept that the idea of it was cooked up by several men, but I refuse to accept the existence of an omnipotent god, just like I refute the existence of a soul. If such a god did indeed exist, there is no doubt that I, intelligent as I am, would have discovered Him. If He is indeed as great as we make Him up to be, He would not credit himself, and would believe simply that hardship makes one strong. Then tell me, where did the story of god come from? You must understand, to gain an understanding of the world, one must firstly begin from a basis of NOTHING. At all. Everything we know credits a higher existence of god, but what we ignore is that everything was created to point to the existence of a god. It is like leaving candy on the floor, waiting for it to melt, and then saying 'ergo, concluding from the sugar on the floor there, there was a piece of candy there' we believe that that god is ultimately, good. If He were indeed good, would he proclaim all his deeds within tomes and preach followance of his path? Would god wage wars on man, killing millions and millions? Some would say it as natural mechanism to control population, then why not a flood of biblical effect? Why not fireballs and bolts of lightning? There is a reason for everything, and thus we can conclude that every reason has a thing, if you know what I mean. Then again, more logically, god could be malicious and ingenious, designing life for us to be sceptical, or we have progressed beyond gods little idea of a joke, and are actually evolving. The idea of the first half of that statement is that it's a 'He knew that we would know that he knew that we would know' kind of thing. Ignore my slack grammar and usage of language. Philosophy and freedom cannot be expressed in words, for words must be put in chronological order, and to do that to freedom and thoughts is exactly their inverse. Descartes doubted himself and the world and still didn't get much but confusion and more questions. What do you think you'll do?

Let me not digress. This is not to discuss the existence of god, but the existence of a soul. From the beginning, of whatever one could call it, man-kind, civilization, records; we have been blessed with a conscience. Blessing or curse, I ask. With the help of the strength in self and belief in conscience, not to mention heaven, Heracles defeated the most treacherous of monsters from pits of evil and Perspherone escaped wedded horror with the King of hell, Hades. But then again, what is hell?

If you ask me, which I'm sure none of you will, all this points to one thing, fear of death. We created an idea of eternal joy and a merciful god because we were terrified of death. We created a hell to discourage people from doing things that resulted in death, and then blamed it on god, who of course is good and always right, so he can't be wrong, right? So there.

Anyway, I was wondering the other day, why is it that people consider me cold? I mean, I'm sure I behave similarly with everyone. I know I'm a condescending, arrogant, cold mean bastard, but really. What makes me different from other people? And I thought of this one story, about King Midas, you know, the one who gained the golden touch from some god, I don't recollect. He we overjoyed. He was rich and powerful beyond his wildest dreams. He had everything he'd ever seen in fantasies. Until one day he realised he could no longer eat, or drink. Simplistic joys overstretched him. Wine turned into molten rock in his throat, and food crumbled into gold dust. Of course, he had his doubts but thought, 'heck, I'm rich, who cares?' but then, he accidentally turned his daughter into a golden statuette. Poor man. How he must have been scolded. But that's not the main point. The main point is that he felt regret. If I'm not mistaken, he regretted selling his soul to the devil. Admittedly, the devil does not exist, and neither does the soul, but for the purpose of this little ramble, let us ignore technicalities.

I was looking out the window the other day, and I got my hands on a pencil and wrote this down on a few pieces of paper. It's interesting how much one can learn from conversations with oneself. Admittedly, I am my greatest admirer and my true love.

I question what it means to love. I question all feelings and emotions and as Descartes cut himself off from the world of senses, I shall too follow his footsteps. I shall not make the mistakes he made, and I will succeed.

I tire of this argument with myself. I cannot win or loose. I rest my case and hope you accept, for there is nothing more I can do.

Nothing I can say, but highly disjointed. Sorry people.

Love,

Lady Merlin