Sat, 17th Sep, 11:16PM
They say that you should “write drunk, edit sober”. Well I’m pretty sure I’m drunk. Not on alcohol. No. I’ve had enough of that over the past few days. I’m numbed by the pain of loneliness. It slowly but steadily chips away at my soul.
They also say that you can “stubbornly” refuse to make yourself miserable about anything, Yes! Anything! Well to me, it feels like misery is the default and there are only momentary glances of a mirage that keeps your hope alive. The proverbial carrot to keep you in one rat race or another.
One doesn’t really have much choice in such matters. It feels futile to complain about the obvious meaninglessness of one’s life. It is one of those truths that becomes impossible to unsee. A combination of distractions and platitudes seems like the only way ahead. It is either the uphill battle or the dark chasm. If you stay in one place you only have frustrations until your inevitable death.
Why can’t life be easy? I ask. Repeatedly. To myself. To others. In one form, or another. Knowing there isn’t an answer doesn’t seem to stop me from seeking one. Just another one of those self-similar fractals that appears in one’s life.
Sometimes out of the blue, a third way appears. Again it is “they”. Stop thinking they say. It will calm you down, they say. Focus on your breath. Meditate. Breathe. Close your eyes. Bah!!! It is all a myth. Intended to placate. A red herring. Another distraction. Unachievable nonsense to keep your hopes up. That there is more to life than the climb.
If anything, at least the distractions do their job well. Earn money, buy stuff, fall in love, eat food, feel high, have kids, teach them the same shit, make sure they don’t veer too off-course until you die. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll see a few interesting places, meet some interesting people. Stuff that gets old if you spend more than a week there. You might even keep switching, moving scenery, oceans, mountains, forests and cities. It’s all fun and games as long as you’re well distracted.
They say that it is all in “your head”. That it is just an interpretation of facts. Something that you control. That you can choose a more “happier” or “realistic” interpretation instead of wallowing in a “terrible” one like this. Well. Fuck them. Because that’s just another battle. Another hill to climb like the innumerous others. Just another rat race. Not for money, but for mental peace. Never-ending and unachievable by design. All to keep you from looking back, into the ever widening, gaping chasm of death behind you. Hopefully if you’re good at the races, climb uphill for long enough, distract yourself effectively, you will “feel good” until of course, the gap catches up. Your telomeres erode and you eventually fall back into the abyss that you successfully resisted for so long.
So go forth.
Whatever is your way.
Maybe if you’re lucky, and “get good” you might even forget that death exists.
Until of course it is time, and the illusion breaks.
Whoever said that hedonism was easy didn’t know what they were talking about.