Today has been a day, it wasn't much too long, nor was it short. Like most other days, it comprised of many awkward, bizarre feelings that we as humans, are sadly burdened to feel: Depression, anxiety, hate, love, anger - just some of the examples.
It gets me thinking of why we strive so much as human beings. Why bother, when all these emotions are only substantial, and what lies at the end is nothing but oblivion. Just think about it, you're going to go through life, be it work, play, school etc. and the only thing that surmounts you at the end of the day is the feeling of distrust towards man, or some awry feeling of the sort.
It pisses me off that people around me are trying to make their life more practical by plastering a layer of "fake" on top of everything. It all has to be a game: you can't go too far into something without taking minor steps first; you shouldn't try something you don't believe will end well. The unwritten rules of humanity. A burden.
It gets me thinking of Jean Paul-Sarte's existentialism and it's truth int he world today. How true the fact that we are just beings of anguish that walk this earth without anyone to guide us. The despair we behold through our lives, the feeling of being forlorn. Where are you god? If you do exist, why aren't you doing your best to make us all happy. Given - we cannot be truly happy by logical means. We cannot frolic in the fields forever and waste our time away, as we learn nothing, we don't grow, we don't think. But then again, why bother? when nothing seems to be beyond the shadow of a doubt pointless.
Pointing man, by Giacometti. A testament to existentialism.
It gets me thinking about an argument I remember from a Philosopher. (It may be Jean Paul, but I can't seem to place my finger on the exact person.)
Is there a god?
If a stapler is given a function, to staple things. Who gives it his function? Is it the person that made it? Is it the person who uses it? If it were, then where is that person? Are we truly being used by someone? Are we being objectified by some higher being.
Who is the giver of our function? So far, it only seems like the only thing that can define who we are, is the government, and even they, at their best, only have so much control over what functions we may or may not proceed with. Then who is our creator? If there was one, why didn't he give us a name? He didn't, so far as history can tell us, (even the fake one in the bible, or any other manuscript you may like to argue.) God, (in relevance to the bible.) did not mention that we were called "humans". Sure, he named the first two people "Adam" and "Eve", but has he ever uttered the word "human?" I think not. We are all not named Adam, or Eve.
If it's not apparent to you by now. I present you to you my case - we are who we are, and we are our own gods. We define our functions and our name. We created language, we created sophistication, we created jobs, we created a community. We are our own gods, and nothing in this world can argue otherwise.
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It's a wonder why I have spent the day just wasting away playing card games, or staying online before a bright screen. When the thoughts as above enter my head, all I can think about is my life and it's functionality, and I can't seem but accept the suicidal thoughts that force their way into my head.
The truth is, I want to die. I can sympathize with every other person with that sentiment. However, I disagree on why most of the suicidal attempt it. Because they don't understand why it's arguably okay for you to commit suicide.
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I can already hear you arguing - It's not okay for you to take your own life. You will merely hurt the people around you, cause them grief, and we don't need any of that floating around, now do we?
It's not the case of what other people feel, nor is it the case if anything we do is pious or impious. If my arguments above are valid, then, if we, as our own gods, define our function as one to die, then yes, we should die.
Why do we want to die?
Because we don't have a true purpose. When emotions, heart, soul, blood, tears, veins, sinews, piss, semen, thoughts, anxiety, are merely just a worldly possession. When the truth is, people around us don't really mean that much to us. My mother, my father, my sister, my brother, wouldn't be as important, more, or less important than the person reading right now.
We don't have a purpose, and because of that, we need to concede our lives. Because of that, we define our action as death, and with that, we will be purged of these burdens that we sometimes take privilege of.
Then why aren't you dead Ian?
Honestly. I do not know, and I'm not going to try anything to kill myself. Even though my life is not worth living. (nor is yours, or anyone else.) We as a community have defined lives with a sickly principal - that we are required to preserve it. It's not that I'm scared to break rules, but through the years of that one ideal burned into my head, that's the only thing right now stopping me from stabbing myself in the heart with a knife.
I won't die, don't worry, dear reader, I won't be dying for a really long time.
and till then,
I wish you well.
Ian.
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