Some of my recent posts have been on a dark note, I thought I should give some background as to why.
I am not in a rush to die, but I do not, and never have, wanted to live in a universe like ours. Our universe is fatally flawed in terms of fairness or morality, in that neither concept has a place, even in human society both are often ignored. I want no part of it, I hate it, and I want somewhere else to go.
So, I play video games. I read books. I create art. I write stories. I escape.
Because there is nothing here for me, I do not belong here, I was never given the choice.
And the truth is, I only began to actively seek the miniscule amounts of contentment that I could in our horrible, broken universe when I realized that I couldn't kill myself and reach an afterlife, a rebirth, or some other state of being with absolute certainty those things exist. To me, that was the only way out, and that was 6 years ago.
Now, I believe there is none.
Animals used to be my example for peace. I thought hey lived together in forests in harmony, free from human flaws like greed and malice, but nature is cruel and horrible, perhapse worse than humanity in some ways. No even the animals live in true idealism, what hope do humans have of it?
And why is our universe so horrible to me? There is no such thing as fairness. In nature, I would be killed by my own mother for being weak. There is no justice. In nature, many things kill not just out of need, but out of spite and hate. Bullying is common in nature, aggressors go unpunished. There is no objective good. What is right and wrong is fickle and gauged by the majority of humanity, and changes depending on who's in power. Often those concepts are created or built on for corrupt ends.
We are taught from birth not to take people at face value - to expect dishonesty. We are taught that our opinions should be kept to ourselves in many social situations - to lie. We see people gain success and power through underhanded means - cheating. Some of us learn there are no consequences for bullying others - violence. Most of us look away when others are being oppressed - cowardice. We are taught virtues, and slowly, subtly, insidiously discouraged from them by society - hypocrisy. We are truly a species worthy of scorn and hatred. Whatever greater agency may pass by our planet should not look on us as anything but despicable savage animals, like rabies-infested dogs caught in the light of an incoming bus we are easily frightened into paralysis, never moving to act on our behalf or the behalf of others. But the universe is like this, not just us. Therefore, no greater enlightment is expected of us. Nothing is expected of us at all. We are meaningless. Everything is.
Everything is without purpose.
There is no way to know if we are good people. I need this information, I cannot live without it.
I have built my entire life around the concept of justice and fairness. Without these concepts as objectives, I am nothing, I am worthless and have no reason to exist. I lose the will to exist. My purpose loses its meaning. I become nothing.
I do not want to be here. I want to go somewhere else.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
I'm Not Cool
But that's okay.
So while at my grandparents' house yesterday, I showed my grandmother the recent thing I painted (because showing your grandparents your accomplishments never stops feeling good :V) and then I found a bunch of my old crap on her machine from 3+ years ago. I was going to delete it all but then she demanded I not do that, she keeps everything of mine, regardless of how terrible it is or not. (I love my grammy ;v)
So, for shits and giggles I decided to upload some of it to my dA scrapbook. Here, look at the amazing artist I was in 2010 and earlier, gaze in wonderment at my infinite knowledge of MS Paint and bad grammar.
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/Pickel-389212346
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/What-happens-at-3am-389213689
Here's the thing: I am not a cool artist. I never started off with some amazing art talent. A lot of cool artists show me their art from 5 years back and complain about flaws I cannot see, meanwhile their at they believe is terrible might even look better than my art currently, or at least like skills I have only recently grasped.
And then there's me, too embarrassed about my old art to do anything but nod and agree most of the time. Most of the cool people drew like I did when I was 18 when they were 10. When I was making terrible comics in 9th grade, they were far superior to my level. When I was yelling at my art teacher in 10th grade for dissing anime, they were making still-life paintings like Cezanne on crystal meth. When I was making terrible MS Paint fanart while alternately flaming the sonic fandom 3 years ago, they were painting landscapes like a Bob Ross.
I am anything but a special snowflake. I was not born with Michelangelo's blessing, I did not demonstrate phenomenal ability at age 5, I never took art classes, I didn't win any awards, and I've never been to a proper art college.
But, you know what? I think that's okay. I talk to a lot of people online who also think I'm some kind of art god, I run into people all the time who are impressed with me, I see people say how they can't even draw a stick figure or understand color theory, I see people who joke about how great their MS Paint art looks, I see people who say they used to draw in school but lost interest when they saw how amazing other kids their age were on the internet, and my heart goes out to all those people, but the truth is, I'm not that impressive. I was exactly like them until roughly 2 years ago. All my ability (as proud of it as I am) just came from practice and watching other people and how they drew. Really, that's all, no relation to Da Vinci or sacrificing a black lamb involved.
Of course I'm still embarrassed about it, I'm human, I want to be cool and special, I wish I were like one of those phenomenal artists who was always 50 levels above everyone like a Skyrim guard on Expert difficulty.
But I'm not, I just tried really hard and took good advice from good people. I'm not cool but that's okay, my fans love me anyway. And so do I. :V
So while at my grandparents' house yesterday, I showed my grandmother the recent thing I painted (because showing your grandparents your accomplishments never stops feeling good :V) and then I found a bunch of my old crap on her machine from 3+ years ago. I was going to delete it all but then she demanded I not do that, she keeps everything of mine, regardless of how terrible it is or not. (I love my grammy ;v)
So, for shits and giggles I decided to upload some of it to my dA scrapbook. Here, look at the amazing artist I was in 2010 and earlier, gaze in wonderment at my infinite knowledge of MS Paint and bad grammar.
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/Pickel-389212346
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/What-happens-at-3am-389213689
Here's the thing: I am not a cool artist. I never started off with some amazing art talent. A lot of cool artists show me their art from 5 years back and complain about flaws I cannot see, meanwhile their at they believe is terrible might even look better than my art currently, or at least like skills I have only recently grasped.
And then there's me, too embarrassed about my old art to do anything but nod and agree most of the time. Most of the cool people drew like I did when I was 18 when they were 10. When I was making terrible comics in 9th grade, they were far superior to my level. When I was yelling at my art teacher in 10th grade for dissing anime, they were making still-life paintings like Cezanne on crystal meth. When I was making terrible MS Paint fanart while alternately flaming the sonic fandom 3 years ago, they were painting landscapes like a Bob Ross.
I am anything but a special snowflake. I was not born with Michelangelo's blessing, I did not demonstrate phenomenal ability at age 5, I never took art classes, I didn't win any awards, and I've never been to a proper art college.
But, you know what? I think that's okay. I talk to a lot of people online who also think I'm some kind of art god, I run into people all the time who are impressed with me, I see people say how they can't even draw a stick figure or understand color theory, I see people who joke about how great their MS Paint art looks, I see people who say they used to draw in school but lost interest when they saw how amazing other kids their age were on the internet, and my heart goes out to all those people, but the truth is, I'm not that impressive. I was exactly like them until roughly 2 years ago. All my ability (as proud of it as I am) just came from practice and watching other people and how they drew. Really, that's all, no relation to Da Vinci or sacrificing a black lamb involved.
Of course I'm still embarrassed about it, I'm human, I want to be cool and special, I wish I were like one of those phenomenal artists who was always 50 levels above everyone like a Skyrim guard on Expert difficulty.
But I'm not, I just tried really hard and took good advice from good people. I'm not cool but that's okay, my fans love me anyway. And so do I. :V
Monday, July 8, 2013
Dark Places
This weekend has been full of thoughts, some of them very dark, even for me.
And others full of color.
But mostly full of meaning.
Articulating all of them is difficult, and I'm not sure if my overall attitude is positive or desperate - I'm a proper cynic, optimism doesn't come easily to me, but assuming I know what it feels like, I think that's how I feel, and I earned it through fighting depression and doubt.
I had help, though.
I feel okay about sharing this publicly. I could be mocked for it, but that's okay, because there are things I want to tell people that I hope can help someone.
About six weeks ago, my depression came to a head. I think I wrote a blog post about it, but it's mostly incoherent groping for words in a flood of strong feelings. I'd like to say that I hope someone can relate, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want anyone else to feel that miserable, hopeless, desperate, and like you have the world on your shoulders and a black rock in your chest. I became so depressed that I made myself physically sick from it - yes, that can happen. Depression is also a neurological and chemical affliction and not just a psychological one - and after trying to vent online to my friends in a Skype chat about it for a while, I made the aforementioned post.
I should note that the specific chat I vented in is full of people who are good friends to me. I might only know them online, but we have shared deep conversations - and very involved arguments - about things that make me feel like we both know each other and care about each other. There is a mutual air that we enjoy each other - well, mostly - and that I feel confident that they are concerned with me, which they have proven to me on multiple occasions.
Unfortunately, that night was an exception.
A person who I have a lot of respect and admiration for said something in roughly four lines to make the entire thing worse. I don't blame this person, I think if they knew just how truly bad off I was, they wouldn't have said this thing to me. It probably didn't help that, in that state of thinking, my usual clear-cut sentences were jumbled into meaning nothing to others. But I need to bring this up to illustrate my point.
What did she say to me? Something along the lines of "Invite me back when you're done whining about not getting your way."
I should note that I wasn't particularly upset about one thing as much as a bunch of things, and that I don't recall specifics about it but also don't remember being upset about something not going my way - quite the opposite, since an issue I've been dealing with since graduation was finding my own direction in society and giving other people something I feel truly passionate about. And even if this doesn't sound like something that would be particularly upsetting to someone, I've been told things like this all my life. My family finally came to understand the depths of my complicated issues, legitimately diagnosed or otherwise, several years ago, but that still left teachers, peers, and internet presences all treating any issue I had as shallow or "whining about nothing" and there are times in life when a person is really upset. Even if it is about something small, their feelings obviously are not. Because of my own struggles with these issues, I try never to tell someone else they're worried about nothing, or if someone is upset or sad, I want to sympathize with them in some way and let them know that it's okay to cry sometimes even over small things, because we all need the relief it brings.
My reaction to the statement, paraphrased as I've made it, was not positive - it actually turned into the worst thing it could have. A negative remark became the catalyst for my dark thoughts to overwhelm me, and I was seriously considering ending everything in the fastest possible way.
I was shaking ,and crying, and I do not even remember what pills I took that night, but they couldn't have been that strong because I got to five or six before getting a text. It was like I forgot I had a cellphone. (Damn good cellphone too, I've dropped it many times but it still works and the phone plan is cheap. Fuck yo smartphones) I checked my messages, and I saw it was one of my friends wondering where I was or if I went to bed.
My resolve collapsed and I sat in the middle of the floor crying for a very different reason.
This was one of my couple friends who both contemplate suicide - probably my best friend, actually - I have encouraged them out of it before, assuring them that people do care about them, including me.
And I was about to do the same damn thing to them.
I could have even been the catalyst for them.
I related this to my mother the other night. To my horror and relief she told me how broken she would be if I did that. I have always viewed myself as the useless daughter that grew up to do nothing with their life and mooched off of her food and bills, and when I told her this she became so angry, and I became so ashamed.
The past six weeks have been heavy for me. I've come in and out of depression and I'm still being treated for it professionally - pills and therapy do help, I encourage anyone who hasn't looked at that as an option to consider it - but one thing has made it easier to cope with.
There are people who care about me, including them.
My best friend pulled me out of a very dark place, my friends give me help and comfort when I need it and I try to do the same for them. We keep each other from falling into dark places, and we are all each other's light.
And they really do care about me.
The people in our lives can be shoulders to lean on even when they are not physically there. Even when it seems illogical, genuine caring and friendship resonates with people even through the darkest places. Reach out to your friends and take their hands, regardless if you're the one pulling or they are.
And others full of color.
But mostly full of meaning.
Articulating all of them is difficult, and I'm not sure if my overall attitude is positive or desperate - I'm a proper cynic, optimism doesn't come easily to me, but assuming I know what it feels like, I think that's how I feel, and I earned it through fighting depression and doubt.
I had help, though.
I feel okay about sharing this publicly. I could be mocked for it, but that's okay, because there are things I want to tell people that I hope can help someone.
About six weeks ago, my depression came to a head. I think I wrote a blog post about it, but it's mostly incoherent groping for words in a flood of strong feelings. I'd like to say that I hope someone can relate, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want anyone else to feel that miserable, hopeless, desperate, and like you have the world on your shoulders and a black rock in your chest. I became so depressed that I made myself physically sick from it - yes, that can happen. Depression is also a neurological and chemical affliction and not just a psychological one - and after trying to vent online to my friends in a Skype chat about it for a while, I made the aforementioned post.
I should note that the specific chat I vented in is full of people who are good friends to me. I might only know them online, but we have shared deep conversations - and very involved arguments - about things that make me feel like we both know each other and care about each other. There is a mutual air that we enjoy each other - well, mostly - and that I feel confident that they are concerned with me, which they have proven to me on multiple occasions.
Unfortunately, that night was an exception.
A person who I have a lot of respect and admiration for said something in roughly four lines to make the entire thing worse. I don't blame this person, I think if they knew just how truly bad off I was, they wouldn't have said this thing to me. It probably didn't help that, in that state of thinking, my usual clear-cut sentences were jumbled into meaning nothing to others. But I need to bring this up to illustrate my point.
What did she say to me? Something along the lines of "Invite me back when you're done whining about not getting your way."
I should note that I wasn't particularly upset about one thing as much as a bunch of things, and that I don't recall specifics about it but also don't remember being upset about something not going my way - quite the opposite, since an issue I've been dealing with since graduation was finding my own direction in society and giving other people something I feel truly passionate about. And even if this doesn't sound like something that would be particularly upsetting to someone, I've been told things like this all my life. My family finally came to understand the depths of my complicated issues, legitimately diagnosed or otherwise, several years ago, but that still left teachers, peers, and internet presences all treating any issue I had as shallow or "whining about nothing" and there are times in life when a person is really upset. Even if it is about something small, their feelings obviously are not. Because of my own struggles with these issues, I try never to tell someone else they're worried about nothing, or if someone is upset or sad, I want to sympathize with them in some way and let them know that it's okay to cry sometimes even over small things, because we all need the relief it brings.
My reaction to the statement, paraphrased as I've made it, was not positive - it actually turned into the worst thing it could have. A negative remark became the catalyst for my dark thoughts to overwhelm me, and I was seriously considering ending everything in the fastest possible way.
I was shaking ,and crying, and I do not even remember what pills I took that night, but they couldn't have been that strong because I got to five or six before getting a text. It was like I forgot I had a cellphone. (Damn good cellphone too, I've dropped it many times but it still works and the phone plan is cheap. Fuck yo smartphones) I checked my messages, and I saw it was one of my friends wondering where I was or if I went to bed.
My resolve collapsed and I sat in the middle of the floor crying for a very different reason.
This was one of my couple friends who both contemplate suicide - probably my best friend, actually - I have encouraged them out of it before, assuring them that people do care about them, including me.
And I was about to do the same damn thing to them.
I could have even been the catalyst for them.
I related this to my mother the other night. To my horror and relief she told me how broken she would be if I did that. I have always viewed myself as the useless daughter that grew up to do nothing with their life and mooched off of her food and bills, and when I told her this she became so angry, and I became so ashamed.
The past six weeks have been heavy for me. I've come in and out of depression and I'm still being treated for it professionally - pills and therapy do help, I encourage anyone who hasn't looked at that as an option to consider it - but one thing has made it easier to cope with.
There are people who care about me, including them.
My best friend pulled me out of a very dark place, my friends give me help and comfort when I need it and I try to do the same for them. We keep each other from falling into dark places, and we are all each other's light.
And they really do care about me.
The people in our lives can be shoulders to lean on even when they are not physically there. Even when it seems illogical, genuine caring and friendship resonates with people even through the darkest places. Reach out to your friends and take their hands, regardless if you're the one pulling or they are.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Without Purpose
Humanity is without heroes.
We live in a world of shades of gray, the only way to know what is and isn't right or good is to aim for the majority.
But what kind of world do we live in when the majority practices evil?
Are we all damned sons of bitches? I think we might be worse. It might be time to accept the worst possible consequence of life: There is no such thing as a good guy. Our aspirations and ideals are comprised of lies, and always have been, for very petty reasons. We seek to explore ourselves for enlightenment through religion and spirituality, but what are we really doing? We are reaching out to gods that do not exist, or striving for ideals that only hurt us. The truth is that trying to be a good and right person is damaging to you. Those are constructs of society designed to control people, and we currently live in an age of moral ambiguity where everything is right and everything is wrong.
As adults, we are supposed to think for ourselves, we are supposed to develop our own constitution, and we are supposed to live by our own code, but when everyone is doing that in their own way, the ideal of righteousness loses all meaning.
Because we no longer have outside validation of whether or not we are right, and I honestly cannot tell myself that I am right or good anymore.
Especially when I was born in the minority.
I am not just talking about gaming culture which is 90% of my existence - I was born broken, I am alive because of technology, nature wanted me to die. I have struggled with being different from everyone else since the moment I was revived, and some people are quick to remind me that I am not like the majority.
Human custom dictates that I am evil, because the evils are the minority.
And so I have always been the villain. People have told me it was my fault for being a brat, but do they think I would have been that way if I were born to the norm anyway? Fair chances were never a part of my childhood, people either excluded me or felt so sorry for me that they gave everything to me, and I did not grow up with a concept of normalcy. There was nothing normal about my house, my schooling, or whatever interaction you can misinterpret as a social life. The only thing that made it worth living was listening to my grandparents tell me some god loved me despite being strange. That was the only thing that ever made me feel welcome in a world where even natural laws did not want me. Now I do not see a place for myself, every major group pushes me out or is naturally unappealing to me, and none exists for me. The one that used to feel like home has become a hostile and uncomfortable place to exist. People are violent and confrontational even when among allies.
In fact, people are violent regardless of circumstance. The majority is all kinds of evils and sins, and the minority are all kinds of broken minds and bodies. We are either defective or damned souls and I don't even know which is better anymore.
I have no clear concept of objective good, I don't even think it exists.
And honestly, I do not want to live in a world without it. I can't live without it, it was the only thing I had and I lost it 5 years ago. I spent 5 years in a dull gray where nothing made sense and everything seems meaningless.
We are all born, we accomplish subjectively successful things, and then we die. Maybe people will care about us throughout the course of our lives, but their feelings are also subjective, and those people are not infallible. In fact, there is nothing that says those people don't in fact have bad taste in friends. There is nothing to truly validate any one person's existence besides the hollow belief that what they are doing with their lives objectively matters.
And how can we even tell if it objectively matters? There is no indicator, if there is a higher being it sure as hell isn't telling us. We only have each other, and the opinions of humans are a poor judge. They are not unbiased or objective, they are not perfect. There is no perfect way to know.
And that knowledge has eaten away at me for five years.
I used to believe I meant something in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that was arrogant, but I survived on arrogance. I don't think I can survive in a world where I cannot feel objectively important. That was my entire reason for living, to be objectively meaningful. I cannot do that, I'm just expected to construct my own meaning. In other words, I'm expected to lie to myself to scare off the belief that we are a meaningless species with too much self-importance and no objective impact.
The likelyhood that any of my ideas will matter in the long run is not even an issue anymore. I will paint some pictures a few imperfect humans like and maybe make a few games that some fallible creatures will play, and then I will die. I will die and be buried like everyone else. I will not end my life in any better or worse stature than anyone else, so whaat is even the point of trying?
That is what really gets to me. If there is no reward for living a productive and influencial life, and we all die the same way, are equally consumed by nature for resources, and there is nothing waiting for us, what is the purpose of our existence? I can see none, we are just food for microbes and insects and stardust in the end, we are equal in that regard, our false belief that personal achievement improves us objectively makes me sick to my stomach now. I have been lied to my entire life, and I have lied to myself to stay alive, but I don't know how to deal with this anymore.
I will one day cease to function like a broken toy that is thrown in the garbage. The dead can't feel the love and admiration of their fans, or revel in their success. You can only do that for a short time in your life, and what is even the point of owning something you cannot keep? What is the point of "owning" your life when your life has an expiration date you cannot control? There is no point, everything is pointlessly temporary. Only permanence gives meaning to anything and a reason to live and grow, but everything I do can be taken away from me and my corpse will be as relevant to the universe as any criminal's.
The life I want is one where what I do means something, where I can create and feel like it will benefit me throughout the ages, but that is not for me, that does not exist, and I want no other existence. The one offered me is not good enough. It will never be enough, I do not want to settle for anything less than that, I cannot possibly settle for anything less or I will just continue to waste away inside myself like I have for five years. Every day has been waking up one day at a time and hoping to god people are online that can validate my existence for the limited time that they can, but every other moment spent has no meaning to me besides to perpetuate misery and self-ruin. I can never be happy again, I cannot be motivated to create anything like I used to, the only reason I keep doing it is so other people can tell me I matter and that is not good enough anymore. Those people might believe what they say, but what people believe does not equal truth.
And without absolute truth, I don't know how I am supposed to live. I'm sick of playing moral guessing games, I want something to either tell me what the fuck is expected of me or to end me, because unless I can believe I am fulfilling a destined purpose I cannot deal with this horrible world anymore. Putting up with evil humanity holds no reward, and therefore no purpose.
I want nothing to do with a world without purpose.
We live in a world of shades of gray, the only way to know what is and isn't right or good is to aim for the majority.
But what kind of world do we live in when the majority practices evil?
Are we all damned sons of bitches? I think we might be worse. It might be time to accept the worst possible consequence of life: There is no such thing as a good guy. Our aspirations and ideals are comprised of lies, and always have been, for very petty reasons. We seek to explore ourselves for enlightenment through religion and spirituality, but what are we really doing? We are reaching out to gods that do not exist, or striving for ideals that only hurt us. The truth is that trying to be a good and right person is damaging to you. Those are constructs of society designed to control people, and we currently live in an age of moral ambiguity where everything is right and everything is wrong.
As adults, we are supposed to think for ourselves, we are supposed to develop our own constitution, and we are supposed to live by our own code, but when everyone is doing that in their own way, the ideal of righteousness loses all meaning.
Because we no longer have outside validation of whether or not we are right, and I honestly cannot tell myself that I am right or good anymore.
Especially when I was born in the minority.
I am not just talking about gaming culture which is 90% of my existence - I was born broken, I am alive because of technology, nature wanted me to die. I have struggled with being different from everyone else since the moment I was revived, and some people are quick to remind me that I am not like the majority.
Human custom dictates that I am evil, because the evils are the minority.
And so I have always been the villain. People have told me it was my fault for being a brat, but do they think I would have been that way if I were born to the norm anyway? Fair chances were never a part of my childhood, people either excluded me or felt so sorry for me that they gave everything to me, and I did not grow up with a concept of normalcy. There was nothing normal about my house, my schooling, or whatever interaction you can misinterpret as a social life. The only thing that made it worth living was listening to my grandparents tell me some god loved me despite being strange. That was the only thing that ever made me feel welcome in a world where even natural laws did not want me. Now I do not see a place for myself, every major group pushes me out or is naturally unappealing to me, and none exists for me. The one that used to feel like home has become a hostile and uncomfortable place to exist. People are violent and confrontational even when among allies.
In fact, people are violent regardless of circumstance. The majority is all kinds of evils and sins, and the minority are all kinds of broken minds and bodies. We are either defective or damned souls and I don't even know which is better anymore.
I have no clear concept of objective good, I don't even think it exists.
And honestly, I do not want to live in a world without it. I can't live without it, it was the only thing I had and I lost it 5 years ago. I spent 5 years in a dull gray where nothing made sense and everything seems meaningless.
We are all born, we accomplish subjectively successful things, and then we die. Maybe people will care about us throughout the course of our lives, but their feelings are also subjective, and those people are not infallible. In fact, there is nothing that says those people don't in fact have bad taste in friends. There is nothing to truly validate any one person's existence besides the hollow belief that what they are doing with their lives objectively matters.
And how can we even tell if it objectively matters? There is no indicator, if there is a higher being it sure as hell isn't telling us. We only have each other, and the opinions of humans are a poor judge. They are not unbiased or objective, they are not perfect. There is no perfect way to know.
And that knowledge has eaten away at me for five years.
I used to believe I meant something in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that was arrogant, but I survived on arrogance. I don't think I can survive in a world where I cannot feel objectively important. That was my entire reason for living, to be objectively meaningful. I cannot do that, I'm just expected to construct my own meaning. In other words, I'm expected to lie to myself to scare off the belief that we are a meaningless species with too much self-importance and no objective impact.
The likelyhood that any of my ideas will matter in the long run is not even an issue anymore. I will paint some pictures a few imperfect humans like and maybe make a few games that some fallible creatures will play, and then I will die. I will die and be buried like everyone else. I will not end my life in any better or worse stature than anyone else, so whaat is even the point of trying?
That is what really gets to me. If there is no reward for living a productive and influencial life, and we all die the same way, are equally consumed by nature for resources, and there is nothing waiting for us, what is the purpose of our existence? I can see none, we are just food for microbes and insects and stardust in the end, we are equal in that regard, our false belief that personal achievement improves us objectively makes me sick to my stomach now. I have been lied to my entire life, and I have lied to myself to stay alive, but I don't know how to deal with this anymore.
I will one day cease to function like a broken toy that is thrown in the garbage. The dead can't feel the love and admiration of their fans, or revel in their success. You can only do that for a short time in your life, and what is even the point of owning something you cannot keep? What is the point of "owning" your life when your life has an expiration date you cannot control? There is no point, everything is pointlessly temporary. Only permanence gives meaning to anything and a reason to live and grow, but everything I do can be taken away from me and my corpse will be as relevant to the universe as any criminal's.
The life I want is one where what I do means something, where I can create and feel like it will benefit me throughout the ages, but that is not for me, that does not exist, and I want no other existence. The one offered me is not good enough. It will never be enough, I do not want to settle for anything less than that, I cannot possibly settle for anything less or I will just continue to waste away inside myself like I have for five years. Every day has been waking up one day at a time and hoping to god people are online that can validate my existence for the limited time that they can, but every other moment spent has no meaning to me besides to perpetuate misery and self-ruin. I can never be happy again, I cannot be motivated to create anything like I used to, the only reason I keep doing it is so other people can tell me I matter and that is not good enough anymore. Those people might believe what they say, but what people believe does not equal truth.
And without absolute truth, I don't know how I am supposed to live. I'm sick of playing moral guessing games, I want something to either tell me what the fuck is expected of me or to end me, because unless I can believe I am fulfilling a destined purpose I cannot deal with this horrible world anymore. Putting up with evil humanity holds no reward, and therefore no purpose.
I want nothing to do with a world without purpose.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Dreamer's Depot
I've had the same vivid dream for three nights now. I enter a train station, but I'm not myself, I'm something else - a creature of no definable species but who is obviously female. My memories and experiences of the world are completely different and I know different people, but when I wake up, I barely remember any of it even though the feelings are so vibrant in my mind.
Whenever I enter the train station, I check the route map - I can read it in the dream, but do not remember the significance of the marks on it when I wake up, only vague pictures of its design. The most vivid dream had me taking the B route, which was blue. I don't remember where it led, but in a daydream later, as I was working on a homework assignment, I saw her drawing on parchment. She was drawing a map, consulting a flying creature. I surmised in this other world that I draw maps, but I do not know what for.
I remember faces of things I talked to. Some recognizable as creatures of our world, or similar things, and others were strange or I do not remember their details clearly enough. All of this seemed everyday to me, but at the same time, brighter, dreamier, as if that world was more positive. Or maybe, I am more positive in that world. I remember being willing to help someone locate something. It was yellow, but I do not remember what it was.
The route map is never the same, each time I've viewed it, it has changed significantly. Each time I board the train, the scenery is different outside. And one time, it wasn't a train, it was a plane that took me into space and dropped me off on a metallic floating island. I remember boarding the train again and finding shady characters in the first car, but I do not know if they had malintent. I didn't seem to think so at the time.
I have no idea if I will have these dreams again, but I hope so. They are so vivid and I like being that person in that world that has such different vibes from my own. The different experience adds a spice of variety to my life.
I feel something that I haven't felt in ages. I don't know what it is, but it feels like my heart soaring and my mind liberating, like my soul is pushing against my chest, demanding freedom, but at the same time like I am more animated and alive, and like I have something, something extremely important that gives me purpose and knowledge and good feelings, something that fills a void that has existed in my soul for literally years, something vital that I have grasped and can hold onto with all my strength, and which in turn gives me strength. I not only feel alive, but I feel like I want to live, to press on, like there is a purpose for pressing on, even though I have no idea what I'm pressing forward into, I feel like I need to.
All because of a dream, I must sound insane.
Or maybe it isn't a dream, maybe I am experiencing something real. It feels real, or at least, it feels like it holds substance. Maybe I have substance, a deep part of myself that fills how empty I have become. I sometimes feel like a husk filled with many things, and then having all of those things poured out of me when my views began to change, and now I feel like something is inside me, giving me weight and making me more than an empty vessel.
I know something certain, more certain than I have been in a long time: I want to return to the Dreamer's Depot tonight and board that train to wherever it will take me.
Whenever I enter the train station, I check the route map - I can read it in the dream, but do not remember the significance of the marks on it when I wake up, only vague pictures of its design. The most vivid dream had me taking the B route, which was blue. I don't remember where it led, but in a daydream later, as I was working on a homework assignment, I saw her drawing on parchment. She was drawing a map, consulting a flying creature. I surmised in this other world that I draw maps, but I do not know what for.
I remember faces of things I talked to. Some recognizable as creatures of our world, or similar things, and others were strange or I do not remember their details clearly enough. All of this seemed everyday to me, but at the same time, brighter, dreamier, as if that world was more positive. Or maybe, I am more positive in that world. I remember being willing to help someone locate something. It was yellow, but I do not remember what it was.
The route map is never the same, each time I've viewed it, it has changed significantly. Each time I board the train, the scenery is different outside. And one time, it wasn't a train, it was a plane that took me into space and dropped me off on a metallic floating island. I remember boarding the train again and finding shady characters in the first car, but I do not know if they had malintent. I didn't seem to think so at the time.
I have no idea if I will have these dreams again, but I hope so. They are so vivid and I like being that person in that world that has such different vibes from my own. The different experience adds a spice of variety to my life.
I feel something that I haven't felt in ages. I don't know what it is, but it feels like my heart soaring and my mind liberating, like my soul is pushing against my chest, demanding freedom, but at the same time like I am more animated and alive, and like I have something, something extremely important that gives me purpose and knowledge and good feelings, something that fills a void that has existed in my soul for literally years, something vital that I have grasped and can hold onto with all my strength, and which in turn gives me strength. I not only feel alive, but I feel like I want to live, to press on, like there is a purpose for pressing on, even though I have no idea what I'm pressing forward into, I feel like I need to.
All because of a dream, I must sound insane.
Or maybe it isn't a dream, maybe I am experiencing something real. It feels real, or at least, it feels like it holds substance. Maybe I have substance, a deep part of myself that fills how empty I have become. I sometimes feel like a husk filled with many things, and then having all of those things poured out of me when my views began to change, and now I feel like something is inside me, giving me weight and making me more than an empty vessel.
I know something certain, more certain than I have been in a long time: I want to return to the Dreamer's Depot tonight and board that train to wherever it will take me.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Human Evils
I am a hell of a person to pass judgement on others.
Sometimes I think I might be the embodiment of every biblical sin in history, as well as a few from orthodoxies I am unfamiliar with, but I'm starting to believe that being a devil means having a unique and intimate understanding of human evils. They are things that we all want to avoid o conquer within ourselves, and from what I observe of the human soul, that means that evil is necessary for good to exist.
We fear evil, and there is nothing more frightening than the darkness that grows inside ourselves because it has more power over us than any other force in the world. It causes us to do things we regret later and it makes us question every major action in our lives. It is fear, doubt, hate, anguish, envy, anger, paranoia, and insanity. It is the demon that lives inside all of us and we all struggle daily to not be consumed by it.
But it is still a part of us that helps us grow. We need it inside of us.
The monster rears its ugly head and it's our responsibility to combat it, avoid it, and survive. But that struggle cannot be won. We can weaken the beast, but not destroy it - it will always live inside of us and wait.
At the same time, it reminds us of our virtues. It is a black knight that stands before the gate to hell and makes us face that gate when we are at our lowest point, and it reminds us that we can cross that gate or fight for the good inside of us. It points out our flaws, the cracks in our defenses, and it makes us stop and consider our actions. In our constant sparring match with evil, it drives us to improve and take action, and looking it in the eye makes the monster tremble and the knight return the glare, daring us to look away but inviting us to examine how evil we really are.
But what if we were also the black knight? Would we face a white knight?
Mankind is naive, we blame many sins committed by others on the evil in their heart, but what about the good? The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the battle between our light and dark sides is fought on a different battlefield for each person - only we can judge the good and evil inside ourselves, and the answer will always be personal - rarely will it be fully identical to another person's morality. What one person views as taking a life, another might view as saving one. What one human sees as pointless murder, another might consider it a grizzly means to an end. Our subjectivity is our greatest strength, but also our greatest flaw, and when we believe we are doing the objective good, who's to say we aren't the greater evil?
The black knight is a skeptic, it undermines our actions and makes us doubt, but doubt is not always a bad thing. Observe as it sizes up the white knight, questioning its stalwart faith in the greater good and making it re-examine its concept of good. Even the courageous white knight must struggle with the black, because true courage is facing fear, and that also means facing doubt, acknowledging that it exists in your heart, and considering what it is telling you about your world. You are the black knight, you are the one doubting yourself, you are also the one who must listen to yourself.
As you must also listen to your fear, your anger, your madness.
They are parts of your soul and they exist for a reason. In a room filled with light and song where the sun streams through the broad windows, the light loses its meaning and appears gray. The same applies in a room full of darkness, devoid of sound or feeling. It can numb us and take away our humanity, we lose our concept of light and dark with either scenario, but even the smallest candle burns brighter in the dark, holding that flame and nursing it to be strong and give meaning to the darkness as well as the light it gives off is what it means to possess a human heart.
The human soul is divided by two opposing forces, though those forces might change over time, the scale is always shifting, never still. Discontent is our constant companion, without it we would not move forward, we need our human evils to remind us of that, as well as our human good.
Sometimes I think I might be the embodiment of every biblical sin in history, as well as a few from orthodoxies I am unfamiliar with, but I'm starting to believe that being a devil means having a unique and intimate understanding of human evils. They are things that we all want to avoid o conquer within ourselves, and from what I observe of the human soul, that means that evil is necessary for good to exist.
We fear evil, and there is nothing more frightening than the darkness that grows inside ourselves because it has more power over us than any other force in the world. It causes us to do things we regret later and it makes us question every major action in our lives. It is fear, doubt, hate, anguish, envy, anger, paranoia, and insanity. It is the demon that lives inside all of us and we all struggle daily to not be consumed by it.
But it is still a part of us that helps us grow. We need it inside of us.
The monster rears its ugly head and it's our responsibility to combat it, avoid it, and survive. But that struggle cannot be won. We can weaken the beast, but not destroy it - it will always live inside of us and wait.
At the same time, it reminds us of our virtues. It is a black knight that stands before the gate to hell and makes us face that gate when we are at our lowest point, and it reminds us that we can cross that gate or fight for the good inside of us. It points out our flaws, the cracks in our defenses, and it makes us stop and consider our actions. In our constant sparring match with evil, it drives us to improve and take action, and looking it in the eye makes the monster tremble and the knight return the glare, daring us to look away but inviting us to examine how evil we really are.
But what if we were also the black knight? Would we face a white knight?
Mankind is naive, we blame many sins committed by others on the evil in their heart, but what about the good? The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the battle between our light and dark sides is fought on a different battlefield for each person - only we can judge the good and evil inside ourselves, and the answer will always be personal - rarely will it be fully identical to another person's morality. What one person views as taking a life, another might view as saving one. What one human sees as pointless murder, another might consider it a grizzly means to an end. Our subjectivity is our greatest strength, but also our greatest flaw, and when we believe we are doing the objective good, who's to say we aren't the greater evil?
The black knight is a skeptic, it undermines our actions and makes us doubt, but doubt is not always a bad thing. Observe as it sizes up the white knight, questioning its stalwart faith in the greater good and making it re-examine its concept of good. Even the courageous white knight must struggle with the black, because true courage is facing fear, and that also means facing doubt, acknowledging that it exists in your heart, and considering what it is telling you about your world. You are the black knight, you are the one doubting yourself, you are also the one who must listen to yourself.
As you must also listen to your fear, your anger, your madness.
They are parts of your soul and they exist for a reason. In a room filled with light and song where the sun streams through the broad windows, the light loses its meaning and appears gray. The same applies in a room full of darkness, devoid of sound or feeling. It can numb us and take away our humanity, we lose our concept of light and dark with either scenario, but even the smallest candle burns brighter in the dark, holding that flame and nursing it to be strong and give meaning to the darkness as well as the light it gives off is what it means to possess a human heart.
The human soul is divided by two opposing forces, though those forces might change over time, the scale is always shifting, never still. Discontent is our constant companion, without it we would not move forward, we need our human evils to remind us of that, as well as our human good.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
End
I've been thinking about this for a long time now, maybe 2 or 3 years, but have never really given thought to acting on it before, and I wouldn't be sure how to act on this thought, but I can no longer ignore it.
I'm tired.
I have done nothing with my life since I graduated, at first I had so many things I was going to do, but I never did them. I also had so many issues I was struggling with, and finally dealt with the really severe ones, but after that? I had no idea, I still don't.
I have tried many different things thinking they were my dream, like making video games, writing stories, learning to animate, even getting a mundane job for a while and going to college, but as I continued to struggle with inner demons and look for what it was that lit a fire in my heart, I came closer to the true answer - and now it's time to stop burying it in excuses.
I want nothing, I want to do nothing, and there is nothing left for me.
I'm not saying this because I'm depressed, I'm not writing this in a dark room while tears stream from my face and despair engulfs my soul. I wish I were, at least I would feel something besides this fatigue and anhedonia that has been eating me for years.
I struggled with my purpose, with my strengths, with the world around me and its design, and my philosophies. I wanted to draw because it gave me purpose, it brought my ideas to life, but I no longer need to do that, it no longer satisfies me or gives me purpose. Nothing gives me purpose or makes me feel accomplished, and I have tried hard to consider the logical advancements I've made, but they don't matter.
And I feel old.
I feel like I've toughed the universe and the human soul, albeit in a very small way, but I feel like I've gotten the answer, that answer people struggle all their lives for that isn't really an answer but the key to their contentment as they pass on into the next world and leave ours, the thing that makes their life worthwhile and makes them feel like they've contributed all they can. That's how I feel every day, but I've barely lived a third of my expected lifespan, ye t I feel ready to die.
I don't want to kill myself, that would not be a proper end, that would be forced and I'd leave before my time, but I feel my time coming, and every day I feel like I'm wasting away more and more and it might be time to accept it and lay in bed waiting for it.
The fuel that fires my soul has burned out and the passion of youth has left me, I feel like having a will to live at this point is irrelevant in the same way someone in a nursing home might feel their desire to live is irrelevant. I might want something more, my heart might reach out for new pursuits, but it feels meaningless and hollow like the pottery you make in an old age home - no value, no contribution, just a thing to pass the time before you die.
I am lost in a void of gray and all passion and misery pass by quickly.
I miss being able to let misery simmer and anger boil but now I let go so easily, it slips out of a grip that is too tired to hold it anymore. The only thing that makes me feel the way I used to is when I'm dreaming.
I wonder if we dream in death.
My insanity is how I cling to my life, maybe it's time to become sane.
I'm tired.
I have done nothing with my life since I graduated, at first I had so many things I was going to do, but I never did them. I also had so many issues I was struggling with, and finally dealt with the really severe ones, but after that? I had no idea, I still don't.
I have tried many different things thinking they were my dream, like making video games, writing stories, learning to animate, even getting a mundane job for a while and going to college, but as I continued to struggle with inner demons and look for what it was that lit a fire in my heart, I came closer to the true answer - and now it's time to stop burying it in excuses.
I want nothing, I want to do nothing, and there is nothing left for me.
I'm not saying this because I'm depressed, I'm not writing this in a dark room while tears stream from my face and despair engulfs my soul. I wish I were, at least I would feel something besides this fatigue and anhedonia that has been eating me for years.
I struggled with my purpose, with my strengths, with the world around me and its design, and my philosophies. I wanted to draw because it gave me purpose, it brought my ideas to life, but I no longer need to do that, it no longer satisfies me or gives me purpose. Nothing gives me purpose or makes me feel accomplished, and I have tried hard to consider the logical advancements I've made, but they don't matter.
And I feel old.
I feel like I've toughed the universe and the human soul, albeit in a very small way, but I feel like I've gotten the answer, that answer people struggle all their lives for that isn't really an answer but the key to their contentment as they pass on into the next world and leave ours, the thing that makes their life worthwhile and makes them feel like they've contributed all they can. That's how I feel every day, but I've barely lived a third of my expected lifespan, ye t I feel ready to die.
I don't want to kill myself, that would not be a proper end, that would be forced and I'd leave before my time, but I feel my time coming, and every day I feel like I'm wasting away more and more and it might be time to accept it and lay in bed waiting for it.
The fuel that fires my soul has burned out and the passion of youth has left me, I feel like having a will to live at this point is irrelevant in the same way someone in a nursing home might feel their desire to live is irrelevant. I might want something more, my heart might reach out for new pursuits, but it feels meaningless and hollow like the pottery you make in an old age home - no value, no contribution, just a thing to pass the time before you die.
I am lost in a void of gray and all passion and misery pass by quickly.
I miss being able to let misery simmer and anger boil but now I let go so easily, it slips out of a grip that is too tired to hold it anymore. The only thing that makes me feel the way I used to is when I'm dreaming.
I wonder if we dream in death.
My insanity is how I cling to my life, maybe it's time to become sane.
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