No shit, our little mudball just got done with yet another long, dreary circuit around the big fireball! For the 2,019th time since Jesus. And here we go again for Round#2,020. Hold tight, fellow astronauts, and try not to get bumped off, for it might get a bit bumpy this time around.
Good hope for y’all. Farewell to the fallen – RIP.
Rifling my garbage of memories, kind of auditing my choices and mistakes I’ve made, I realized how many speedbumps, potholes, ditches and wrong turns there had been en route to Shitlifetown, where I’ve taken up lodging. Why did I keep going like that?
I just couldn’t apply the brakes and stop for any course correction. I had no map for my life in front of me either. Okay that’s a dishonest excuse, I guess. Nobody got it except freakin’ Nostradamus. But still so many people make it to Disneyland in season.
Fact is, they made use of their compass and I pawned it off upon hard times. Compass comes in different makes – purpose, happiness, faith, religion, etc. – and is never precise. Mine sure wasn’t. I was seeking my true North and no compass showed it. Others, men and women of the world, put their trust in their compass and followed it even if the damn dial wouldn’t move at all.
In the end, they did get somewhere better than Shitlifetown. Doesn’t matter if the purpose was hollow, happiness shallow, faith deluded or religion out and out demented. Many of them simply didn’t bother about their true North and doggedly drove on towards some fucking North that their faulty compass dictated and behold! they’ve got something to show for it, the men and women of the world! Me, I got nothing but half-assed nihilism and agnosticism.
Given the cocoon of existence within which we pass our lives with no absolutes, is it then better to hold onto some faulty compass, any compass, than none at all? Who knows, I’d have arrived at some shiny happy place as well, where R.E.M’s ‘Shiny Happy People’ loops in the background.
I feel like I’ve lived out my time of life. I find the world around me increasingly unfamiliar. It’s only natural, I suppose. The law of life – the old making way for the new. And I’m fine with that. But it’s happening all too suddenly for me. Too fast to grasp my new place among things. It’s like change accelerated manifold.
But it’s a universal phenomenon. Look at evolution; took us millions of years to get here and now they’re talking of bionic man coming this very century. Take climate change; for ages temperatures varied just a few degrees and now we’re looking at being cooked at 2 degrees higher this very century. Humans have been mostly hand to mouth since cavemen era, kept busy with work in order to survive and now they’re bringing AI to gradually take out most jobs by the end of this century.
I can’t relate to turns of events anymore. I’m not following any pop culture the way I used to. I’m not up to date with current affairs, tired of news. Not keeping up with latest tech. Not abreast with social dynamics like relationships.
It all points to my decaying psyche. That’s how growing old works, I guess, though I’m aging quite prematurely, poor me. Nah, that’s fine by me. I’m not enchanted with youth and beauty anyways, not anymore. I’m ready to be left behind in the darkness, stillness and silence of bygone time. Leave me in peace, restless lives! Let me die in peace…
Wonder what spectacular, momentous events are taking place right now in places out of human reach. As I go about my days fretting over my sorry lot – lack of money, poor health, sucky job, low social status, zero relationships, no dreams and pathetic desires, there is something grand happening far out above, unconscious of me. Planets are floating, comets zipping by, stars exploding, molten lava furiously churning, gas clouds sparkling with the birth of stars, chaos amidst silence. Eternal unlike my time on earth and infinite unlike the ground I amble upon.
Sure they’re just dead matter whereas I’m a sentient Human of the 21st century. But would I be any worse off if I turn into a rock this moment? Will the universe a shit? Regardless of what I do with my silly little life here on this planet, would it in the end have any more meaning to it than it’d have if I was a hobo asteroid hurtling alone across the cosmic emptiness for eons, before finally banging head-on into some reptile infested planet?
But here I am, stuck in a particular way of being, so I’ll go on living like billions of others do and carry my curse of consciousness till the very end. Effectively, my life is already over. I’ve no goals ahead. No ambitions. I’ve been eating from the toil of poor farmers all these years without giving anything back. I’m no benefactor of humankind and society got a dirty deal off me. I’m not going to marry and spawn offspring either, so my genes get a dirty deal too from their organism. In short, I’m going to live like a rock lying in mud, oblivious to the wonder of existence in a mind-boggling universe. I’ll continue to exist. I won’t kill myself . Just for the heck of it.
End of pointless rant. Sorry for wasting anyone’s time.
“However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace. The town’s poor seem to me often to live the most independent lives of any. Maybe they are simply great enough to receive without misgiving. Most think that they are above being supported by the town; but it oftener happens that they are not above supporting themselves by dishonest means, which should be more disreputable. Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; return to them. Things do
not change; we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.”
…this is the only ‘social’ media that I’ll grace with my presence from now on.
Months ago I read a serious article online, advising netizens on their way out to make sure not to leave behind their digital footprint lest it be misused after their exit. Decided to act on the advice now.
Never been on snapchat or instagram. Put facebook for deactivation more than a month ago. Checked outta linkedin and behance last week. Left my whatsapp groups (except four that’d raise questions); will uninstall it after quitting my job next to next month. Deleted an alternate email account (wasn’t using it much anyway, tbh). I’ll soon be deleting my only email account and get rid of my cellphone. Way to go, hobo!
The infinite void outside this planet is so perfect and sublime precisely because its limitless. How silly of me for seeking perfection all the while being trapped within a limited body.
Truly the best of all existence is one that does not exist. They can never point me out at my grave because the chunks of meat being feasted upon by maggots down there are not the person they define. That person is indefinite – nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
The dead of all time are free. They’re above the mediocrity of existence and they’re infinite like the universe. I’m just wasting my time here “enjoying life”.
…but even Once is too much.
Had a bad day at office. I’m not one of the gunner kind but rather dumb. Just some pathetic faceless employee right at the bottom of the pecking order. Today I was the last one to leave after a hectic project delivery. I felt so bitter thinking about what a chronic loser I am. Drifting half-assedly through life, working for peanuts, and even then not knowing what to do with whatever spare dime I’m making. I just couldn’t make any sense of my being in this world.
But then, while waiting at the bus stop, a strange peace descended upon me, like a whiff of cool breeze in prickly humidity. I was reminded that my days of living through this shitty existence are numbered. I’m not hanging around for long now. I won’t keep letting myself be humiliated by my incompetence. I’m not living life my own way but I’m going out on my own terms. And that’s a win I’d say. Better than dying old as fuck on a hospital bed, shitting in pans, pissing in bottles, attended by tired nurses, ‘cared for’ by weary relatives secretly wishing I die already. I was exhausted but thinking about my situation in this new light, I commuted back home quite upbeat.
I just hope I can fix a definite time-bound plan for my exit and somehow be at peace all that while. I hope to die with an empty mind without any thoughts buzzing in my head.
End of rant.
And I don’t belong in it.
‘Where are we, exactly?’
Simple inquiry but no answer.
So, let’s just keep distracting ourselves with whatever, in order to avoid being bewildered out of our wits by the reality of our existence. Let’s just live it out, goddamit. Study and work. Succeed and breed. Love and laugh. Enjoy the ride while we can. And this and that.
Wait, but that brings up another question- Why? Again, no answer.
So, let’s just fucking die. Or whatever.
I’d disappear from society and die this minute but I know there are a few good-hearted people who care, family and friends who’d go crazy over my sudden absence and ruin themselves with worry. I’m fucking chained to them, so I know what it is like to be a prisoner and I guess that’s I’ve got this pathological hatred for all those smug assholes who keep birdcages and fishbowls in their dainty fancy sweet little homes. Who gave you the goddamn rights to hold back the birds from flying and the fish from swimming freely out in the real world. Why not just kill and eat them? That’d atleast release them from their existential misery, bitches. I feel like smashing an aquarium to pieces, but I guess that’d kill the fish too. Hell I swear I’m gonna set some birds free before I die even if that means violence. Do not go gentle into that good night…
Suicide is the routine. The balancing act. No one left behind hurts and mourns. The worlds move on.
Death is not news anymore. Life goes on. The value of existence is relative. Meaning of life is what one assigns it.
Winners live and breed. Losers bow out with dignity. All fair game. Humanity doesn’t need so many of its kind; only a few harbingers of the voyage into the future. Let their tribe increase. All the rest are dispensable.
They who know their role in the cosmic play (or lack thereof) are free to slip behind the curtains of being. The audience and the critics of society pay no heed.
Everyone understands. Its the grand show that must goes on. All else is mere happenstance.
I’m moving to a big city full of corporate bots into a new job I’m not fond of. It’s a new phase of my life, but I hope deep down that its the last one too. I look forward to fuck up at work and get fired (Again. I was fired on my first job). I’ll have no friends or family in that city so I guess it’ll be easier to take the plunge when I’ll be on my own.
I’m too tired for new beginnings. It’s too late to make a comeback. I want out.
It might not seem relevant on this forum, but I got to the question upon thinking all night about my death. I need to know opinions of wannabedeads like me.
What do you think? I guess it is.
My thoughts are fluctuating between extremes. I want to run away from everything and vanish forever. I want to seize the day and live into the next century. Both on the same day.
Recently watched a documentary ‘Alone in the Wilderness’ about this guy Dick Proenneke. Recommended watch for those stuck in the void between life and death and can’t stand society.
I sure wish I could pull off such a lifestyle. Perhaps I won’t feel like offing myself then.
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