So why return now? I'm not sure, really. I've been feeling this burning urge inside me to share things about myself with the world. I think I am slowly realizing my own mortality, which will someday be fully realized when I actually die. I am more aware with each passing day of my own mortality. In the event that I die before those around me who might care about me (a strong likelihood), I will leave this and my other account as a memorial to who I was. If anyone ever wants to understand me, to understand how I really fucking tick, this will be the way.
I can't know people. I don't really know anyone, not even myself. I spent years retreating into myself, and I'm not even sure I like me. I feel like I am a prisoner in my own body, hiding behind a thin veil of fallacies as I watch the world around me writhe out of control. There are times where I wish I could press the fast-forward button and watch time go by. I would laugh as my enemies decay, cry as my loved ones disappear, and rejoice as this entire society crumbles as the new powers-that-be take hold.
Time is all I think about lately...it consumes me. The other day I had an important realization, that in 100 years, no one that I know now will exist. Everyone and probably everything I know will be gone. No one will remember me: who I was, what I did, nothing. Don't get me wrong, I don't care about posthumous notoriety or something fucking lame like that. The relevance of this realization is that ultimately, nothing I fucking do matters because it's all ineffectual. Maybe if I were a mass murderer, or did something incredible people would write about me...but I won't, and they won't. This is most people's existence.
So, then the obvious question: why do we exist? Why do I have this cognition? Why must I carry the pain of being? Is it only to serve those who serve a purpose? And, who dictates who does or does not serve a purpose? Simple physics: an action leads to an equal and opposite reaction. The world has almost 7 billion inhabitants. If someone on the other side of the world does something insignificant, does it affect someone else over here? If we're all interconnected, maybe that is our only reason for existing, to be the supporting cast of a cosmic, epic production.
If there is a God, and if that being created the universe, are all just acting for that being's interests? Has no one considered that our existence may not be some altruistic advance by some creator, to help us carve a place out for our souls. Maybe this God is just watching us, occasionally garnering amusement as every little achievement we make crumbles away. Maybe this God just likes watching us cycle and die every 100 years or so, because then the new season starts and a whole new batch of problems come to light.
I don't fucking know. People thumping Bibles and Korans and Torahs don't fucking know. No one does. We all have ideas, but they're probably all wrong. The bottom line is, we have no fucking answers that are indisputable, and I for one am fucking pissed about it. I have carved a place for myself in this universe, but who said that I should exist? Did I consent to my existence? If so, why don't I remember it? Why was I born into this world? And the big fuck-all, why have I been made to suffer existentially for nearly 30 years? Whose ends am I serving?
I don't want to play this game anymore. I don't want to exist simply because someone or something says I have to. And, if I don't exist for that reason, then why? If there is/are no creator(s), then how are we here? If there is a creator, it makes slightly more sense, and I can see why people cling to this idea: because nihilism and utter fucking isolation is pretty fucking scary. But, it's real...to me. I would rather be real than follow the flock like some coward that never bothers to think. That's all religion is, a method to control the cowards that don't want to think. Those who control the religion don't want people to think, they just want them to follow, because control is everything in this world. Without control, you are a slave. Slavery is the worst way to eke out this existence, because then even your illusion of free will is gone.
It just hit me: Solipsism doesn't make sense if you're a slave. If the outside world is something that I imagine, then all my sensory experiences are controlled by me. If my sensory experiences are controlled by me, then why would I opt to allow others to harm me or force my hand? I wouldn't...but maybe others do because their will isn't right. They won't bite the hands that feed...but I will. Maybe that's why I am where I am, and a slave is where they are. So where does will come from? What drives us? It's all relative to something...but something ignited that spark that powers us to this day.
I don't fucking know, but if this universe was created by something, I want that something to know that this existence is flawed and that I never asked for it.
With all that said, I've got a pretty good life, assuming I am alive. I have good people, good things, good work, a brain that allows me to do things...but I still want answers.
That's it for now. Time to go spend money I don't have on things I don't need.
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