I really don’t know what to do with myself. Not only am I stuck in a perpetual state of willful ignorance, but I also lack the ability and patience to articulate just how exactly I feel. There is almost no point in me writing this, but I am doing it anyway. I just don’t know what else to do.
There is nothing about pretentiousness that appeals to me. I do not want to be the type of person that delves into the subject of the futility of my own existence on a regular basis. It’s not like I wake up every morning and decide to meditate upon my own nature and the way I approach my daily life. It’s just, more or less, something that never leaves me.
My thoughts on my own life and experiences can be summed up by the fact that I feel the need to unexist. Again, I feel obligated to state that I am trying to avoid being pretentious; I’m not trying to be edgy. All I am saying is that this feeling, or movement of my heart and mind, is an incessant one. It has never left me.
Even if this feeling is not a thought in any present moment, it lies dormant within me. It used to be at the forefront of my mind — for years, and it begun sometime during my adolescence. As an adult, I attempt to suppress it through any means of distraction. This has, more or less, led to somewhat of a ruin for me.
I have no idea at all what I am trying to say. Without going into specifics, the reality of our mortal condition is something that I am not quite capable of ignoring today. This grim fate that awaits us all is the worst thing (maybe the second) there is.
There are times that I am thankful for life. Nothing comes to mind right now, but one’s imagination can be exercised in this respect. No doubt, there are many joys to be experienced in life — things that make us feel envigorated within. Things that make us smile. Things that make us laugh. These give us a sense of gratitude for the life that we have been given.
Despite the good that comes from being a creature upon this earth, there is much more bad. I do not have the right to curse my existence, due to the fact that I have it easier than 99.999999999999% of anyone else that has roamed the face of this planet. I ask for forgiveness for my discourse on what I have zero right to talk about. I just cannot help it right now.
Life is brutal. It’s terrifying. Every fiber of my being cries out with this, calling my attention to the truth. What is a person to do in a world where Death lying in wait at all times?
Our current access to information, having the entire world accessible to our finger tips, does not help. Being able to see the blatant suffering of my fellow man is a brutal thing. My heart yearns and aches for everyone trodding through this life. It’s too much for me even to read about it. To be quite honest, I just try to ignore it. It’s too difficult for me otherwise. It’s devastating, but what am I supposed to do?
I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing that I can do about anything. I mean this in terms of both being empathetic for fellow human beings and making up for my own mistakes. There is nothing that I can do that would be proper recompense.
If I am lucky, I’ll live to be 70-something. Who knows how long I have left to breathe? Regardless, there is nothing I could do in a 70-someting life span that do anyone or anything justice. It is humanly impossible to properly repent.
For the sake of illustrating this, let’s say I live to be a million years old. Let’s also say that during my million year lifespan, I sleep one hour every night. In addition, let’s also say that every waking moment (i.e. 23 hours a day for a million years straight) of my life is spent weeping. Even if I did and were able to do that, I would never ever shed enough tears to compensate for the pain that the whole of humanity has felt or as reparation for my own shortcomings.
No one makes it out of this life alive. This is something I try to avoid thinking about. As I have already stated, I use any means at my disposal to keep it out of my head. Nonetheless, it is there…lurking, all the time.
I don’t know what else to say. Sorry for my vain and morbid rambling. Hopefully no one read it.