I’ve been trying again to pin down what exactly it is I’m still doing here. As usual I’m failing to find a clear answer. By any standard morality, I would’ve been dead long ago. Any halfway decent person would’ve committed seppuku immediately in my situation. But of course if I were halfway decent, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Clearly, conventional morality doesn’t have a strong enough pull on my mind to motivate me to do ‘the right thing’. I feel shame, I feel guilt, I know that there’s a deep wrongness in me. But that’s apparently just not enough.
I don’t want to hurt my parents. They’re genuinely good people, and so invested in me. Perhaps too invested. When I think about them getting the news, or having to ID the body, or just having to live with it, day after day, for the rest of their lives…I couldn’t do that to them, could I? It feels like the ultimate dick move, after everything else I’ve put them through, and all they’ve done for me.
I’m not attractive, confident, or care-free enough to enjoy a life of meaningless hedonism. My existence is anxious and uncomfortable. I’m not at ease in my own skin, both metaphorically and literally. Nausea overwhelms me every time I leave the house. Dorian Gray I ain’t.
There are times I feel this world of ours could be so good. If only it weren’t for shitheads like me, screwing it up for everybody. Perhaps suicide would be the selfless thing. Or perhaps I should do something to help. If only I wasn’t so useless. I mean, the other 7 billion of you seem to be doing mostly fuck all, and most of you have something to live for – friends, partners, children, careers, plans. How the fuck is a useless prick like me going to make any difference whatsoever, with none of that? Activism requires people skills! How do you persuade people that life on this planet is worth saving when you doubt your own life is worth living?
But it would be a shame, if right on the brink of having the technology to make our existence so much better, we used our existing technology to burn our civilization to the ground. Just a thought.
At least the genuine psychopaths love themselves unconditionally. I have to live with the knowledge of who and what I am, both loathing and loving it. Won’t someone please think of the assholes? We have feelings too (mostly rage and self-disgust, but still!)
If only we could know, clearly, what this world is. What happens when we die. Why we are the way we are. If we knew there’d be no punishment, that there was no one watching. Although perhaps that might lead to a moral decline in society. So just me. If only I could know, personally. If only I could be sure.
That’s the thing about a guilty conscience – you’re always anticipating someone finding out, somehow. Awaiting judgement. If not in this life, then after death. The thought that you’d just get away with it – it’s just not acceptable somehow. How could something so awful not have any deeper meaning? Unfortunately, for some things no punishment would ever be enough.
If there is a God, a personal message would be nice. Just to make it clear. The ancient scriptures seems somewhat lacking in consistency and credibility. Almost like they were contrived to justify the interests of those who wrote them.
Would it really be too much to ask to get a clarification on whether eternal damnation is on the cards, and what actions would be sufficient to avoid such a fate? Are all the angels so rushed off their wings that they can’t spare a minute to drop by and spell it out? Do I really have to put all my faith in ancient schizophrenic middle eastern nomads?
I think I’ve put myself beyond any real human connection. If that’s the only meaning to be found in a Godless world, then where does that leave me? Do I keep banging my head against the impossible, just for the sake of it? All you need is love, but what if you’ve made that impossible for yourself? What then? What if you’re one of the lonely people? How do you know when you’re better off giving up the ghost, and saving yourself additional pain? If I could just know…