whatevs
Mining for copium in the weirdest places.
- Jan 15, 2022
- 2,914
I was reading a Baroja book in which the protagonist, a pessimist like most of his, reflects on his past life and how everyone he used to know is now dead. I lately get assaulted by a similar sentiment. I feel like there was a time when I was alive and hopeful, but that was ages ago, and I've been spending my 20s barely existing, battling mental and physical illness, eventually signing up to a suicide forum. Time passes and we all age, and some experiences will never be available again, which means they will never be felt.
There's an ambivalence here because I'm talking about wanting lo live more but I genuinely think there's something wrong with life, and that everything one can find unjust, cruel or deceitful in things like politics is stemming from a deeper, ontological layer. Unlike some people, I don't 'desire the void', and I don't even believe in the existence of an absolute vacuum after death, but there's something in life that resembles addiction and delusion.
Most people are addicted to existing, and I say addicted in the generic sense of being hooked to something that might be actually causing harm or that isn't completely benign, and we try to delude ourselves out of watching death and suffering in the eyes. But there's something completely crooked in how life has to parasitize or devour other manifestations of itself to thrive and multiply. It really is a fucked up thing, since all lifeforms should feel some kind of discomfort when their primordial wish, existing, is cancelled out or obstructed by another biological phenomenon.
In that I find a fundamental stench, a foundational flaw, the 'original sin'. If the building blocks of life are murder, thievery and subjugation, what can we expect from what these materials manifest, no matter how they are combined in sophisticated constructions? Surely no morality will ever be valid outside of 'might makes right' going by Nature's playbook, no matter what our hypocritical documents say.
Getting back to the topic of a wasted life, for me it's very clear what has been and continues to be to blame, aside from chronic illness: living in fear. Fear of failure, fear of defending yourself, fear of other's people reaction to your true self. Fear means one thing at the end of the day: paralysis, not doing. If there's one thing I want in life is to not live in fear, but that is how I am, and that is how I have "lived", if you can call it that.
One night, back when my maternal grandparents were alive, I hastily took to the streets. My grandmother had called, they needed me to help with my demented grandfather. In this period of my life I was already well within the "diseased period", which never stopped. When I was crossing a bridge on my way, I saw a young, pretty girl sitting on the edge, with tears in her eyes. She looked directly at me and smiled. I was terrified. I was embarrassed. I was scared of the authenticity of the emotions, and I felt uncomfortable with the invitation, if that's what it was. I looked away and passed by, but I always wondered what could have happened if I got had gotten close and started a conversation.
Fear, fear has always followed me, minimizing my existence, preventing me from doing.
There's an ambivalence here because I'm talking about wanting lo live more but I genuinely think there's something wrong with life, and that everything one can find unjust, cruel or deceitful in things like politics is stemming from a deeper, ontological layer. Unlike some people, I don't 'desire the void', and I don't even believe in the existence of an absolute vacuum after death, but there's something in life that resembles addiction and delusion.
Most people are addicted to existing, and I say addicted in the generic sense of being hooked to something that might be actually causing harm or that isn't completely benign, and we try to delude ourselves out of watching death and suffering in the eyes. But there's something completely crooked in how life has to parasitize or devour other manifestations of itself to thrive and multiply. It really is a fucked up thing, since all lifeforms should feel some kind of discomfort when their primordial wish, existing, is cancelled out or obstructed by another biological phenomenon.
In that I find a fundamental stench, a foundational flaw, the 'original sin'. If the building blocks of life are murder, thievery and subjugation, what can we expect from what these materials manifest, no matter how they are combined in sophisticated constructions? Surely no morality will ever be valid outside of 'might makes right' going by Nature's playbook, no matter what our hypocritical documents say.
Getting back to the topic of a wasted life, for me it's very clear what has been and continues to be to blame, aside from chronic illness: living in fear. Fear of failure, fear of defending yourself, fear of other's people reaction to your true self. Fear means one thing at the end of the day: paralysis, not doing. If there's one thing I want in life is to not live in fear, but that is how I am, and that is how I have "lived", if you can call it that.
One night, back when my maternal grandparents were alive, I hastily took to the streets. My grandmother had called, they needed me to help with my demented grandfather. In this period of my life I was already well within the "diseased period", which never stopped. When I was crossing a bridge on my way, I saw a young, pretty girl sitting on the edge, with tears in her eyes. She looked directly at me and smiled. I was terrified. I was embarrassed. I was scared of the authenticity of the emotions, and I felt uncomfortable with the invitation, if that's what it was. I looked away and passed by, but I always wondered what could have happened if I got had gotten close and started a conversation.
Fear, fear has always followed me, minimizing my existence, preventing me from doing.
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