Beauty in the Madness

MistWeaver: Okay. So let's forget about everything I've ever written for a moment and focus on one single question. Life. Why is it? Now let's look back on everything that's happened in the past few years to me, and voila. There is an answer. And it is: "Who cares?"
Voice: Very insightful.
Weaver: Thank you. I thought so. It's so true though. Really, who cares? Now, if you were to ask what life is, that would be a different matter. The answer to that one is even simpler, really.
Voice: Oh? And what's the answer to that question?
Weaver: Life is beauty. Life is pain. Life is sadness and mist and black pens and long nails and drugs and mosh and babies and sunshine and homework and love and hate and above all, life is beautiful. Even in the horrible scenes, the starving kids with the distended bellies, the beaten woman's hunched shoulders... it's all beautiful. Am I a freak for thinking that even the most horrible things are beautiful?
Voice: You need to see the horrible things in order to appreciate the wonderful ones.
Weaver: No, that's not what I mean. It's true, of course. But I mean literal beauty. Like, you look at it and think 'oh, that's beautiful' kind of beauty. It's sick, but there's beauty in the sickness too. Starting to understand me? Beauty. And one of the reason's it's so beautiful, I think, is that it's all madness. All of humanity is madness. That's our contribution to the Earth. Choas. But there is, above all, beauty in the madness. And that's why there's beauty in all of humanity's antics, good and bad, because it's all madness.
Voice: What brought up this subject, anyway?
Weaver: I don't know. It's just the kind of mood I'm in. I'm embroiled in the Email Wars again with my father, and the cynical amusement he always fills me with filtered into a kind of happy contemplation of life.
Voice: So how are things with your father, speaking of that topic.
Weaver: I don't really care how he is. Over the past few weeks, it's really occured to me just how little he matters to me. I don't hate him. I don't wish that I had a good father figure instead of a lying asshole with antisocial personality disorder (Sociopath, for those not not up to date with psych terms). And I'm not saying that with bitterness, truly. It's a fact. I went through the symptoms with the therapist the court is making me see. He's just... a source of amusement. One day I'll tell you about the sex letters we found on his blackberry around Valentine's. They made my day. No. They made my week. They were just so stupid and ridiculous. And really, if I were to look at the soap opera my life has become, or even if I cared at all about my father, I'd probably have to cry. As it is, it's all just a bit amusing. He's not a part of my life, and whenever he tries to intersect it again, how can I possibly take him seriously?
Voice: It didn't occur to you that he's possibly sincere? Just a suggestion.
Weaver: Yeah, for about four seconds. You'd really have to have lived with him (or be intimitely acquainted with the traits of sociopaths) to understand. He tells himself that he really cares and I'm being a silly teenager and lashing out and such because that's what society tells him is happening. To him, it doesn't matter how mature or intelligent I am, because I'm still a child in his eyes, simply by still being in high school. In reality, he cares pretty much nothing about me, except as what a father is supposed to as is regulated by (of course) society. And I accept that. When I first realized that I really didn't care one way or another about him, not even what society regulates to be the necessary amount, I felt guilty. But I don't. I've made my peace with what he is, and choose not to dwell on it. And that's another reason I'm so happy. And I suppose I do dwell still, because I can't believe how little I feel. And how free that makes me feel. And I can't stop talking about it, because it's so amazing.
Voice: Isn't that ironic? To not dwell gives you something else that you dwell on.
Weaver: But that's the madness again. The insanity of humanity and the flow of peace. That's what I'm feeling. Peace. And I'm seeing the beauty.