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Futility of Life

I haven’t been happy for a long time. Years. Maybe a decade. Probably since I’ve been in California. But definitely since I became “of age”. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt mostly nothing, with a background longing for something substantial. Of course, I had moments of fleeting joy. A new girlfriend, a night with my friends, but the truth is I’ve always held on hope that my tomorrows would be better.

I am complex, this much is true. But what’s more important than my complexity is my journey to it. From the time I was a kid I osmotically absorbed everything around me. I was an information sponge. I wanted to know. In Oklahoma, I was a little hotshot. Nice clothes, nice shoes, nice house, 3 cars, and a dog. Lived across the street from the high school coach. Summer BBQ’s on our 2 acre ranch home. Winter snowball fights with the neighborhood kids. Friday nights the entire town went to see the football team serve up our rivals.

Then I moved to California, where I was forced to live in a derelict home in Inglewood a month after leaving my Midwestern dreamlife. We fared many nights of no food, lights being turned off, and washing our clothes in the sink. I began to learn the life of defeat. Sunday mornings hearing others in situations like mine and worse, importuning a pastor and God to help turn their lives around. To compound my distorted views on the world, the same people I was supposed to trust, the pastors, policeman, elected officials, teachers, and neighbors were committing heinous acts of inhumanity. We were homeless twice between the ages 12 and 16. Bounced checks. Lost jobs.

All in this world concocted by human minds.

The crimes against humanity is always at the hands of another human. You can plead “the Devil made me do it”, but as we all know that’s a royal fucking cop out. Everything corrupt on this earth is the creation of a human being. Politics, religion, business, economics, debt… And they all play pivotal roles in defining the negative (and majority of) aspects in the life time of a human being.

I find happiness to be momentary, ephemeral.

To add insult to injury, you have the same corroded humans rattling off opinions. From social media to community centers, the gossip and hearsay, the backstabbing and disgusting hypocritical irony are everywhere. This society, this human disease, is literally a sickness which continually throws up on itself. From mass media to the banking system, the whole civilized world is disgustingly pathetic. It begs the question:

Why are we even here?

To fall in love? To worship God? To eat, drink, and be happy? To pursue happiness? I can enjoy almost nothing in this virtually incorrigible flesh tomb. As that osmotically active child absorbed more and more of the world, he saw more pain than pleasure, more crooked than straight. More hopelessness than possibility, more lies than truth. He saw more fake images trying to appear real and less authenticity being respected.

Humans want ideal existences, yet the ideal is impossible. So is life futile? To me it might as well be.



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