It’s Just a Ride

Last weekend a cousin of mine went to California to pick up his kid and came back with all sorts of goodies: edibles, bud, and some psilocybin. We sat around for a bit, just chatting. He and I don’t have a lot in common, but we still enjoy each other’s company from time to time. I get along with the son he went to pick up. Not saying I don’t get along with his other two kids, but I’ve just gotten along with this one better than the other two.

Anyway, we took the mushrooms and waited. It started out slow, the trees started moving in rhythm with each other when there was no wind blowing and I started seeing shapes in the trees. There’s a certain shape on the side of my cousin’s camper that started moving kind of like Pac Man that started just chomping away and that gave me the giggles for a while. I don’t know why it was so funny. As time passed (it passed pretty slow for me) the pebbles surrounding the camper came to life and started to look like maggots moving along the ground and the trees started twirling and changing colors then looked as though they were melting.

I don’t know how long I was at his place, but at one point during the night I decided it was time for me to make my way home. Don’t worry, I didn’t drive. He lives within walking distance from my house (2 minute walk. I timed it before.) The grass was swaying back and forth and the one single light in my yard illuminated the entire yard in this rainbow color so I’m seeing just waves of colorful grass all over the place.

Once in my room I turned on some music on YouTube and watched the video come to life and the music did as well. The video and the music were both dancing. I know that makes no sense, but it was beautiful. I did have a bit of a bad experience at one point and retreated to the bathroom and just sat down, staring at the floor tiles, which were twirling and had a mind of their own. Death came to mind also and I learned there’s nothing to be afraid of, but I also felt that I had already died. This part of the trip freaked me out a bit, but I had to tell myself to just relax and go along for the ride so that’s what I did. I crawled into bed and just let the trip take me wherever it wanted to take me. Eventually I dozed off and fell into a deep sleep.

I woke up feeling refreshed, even with the bad part of the trip happening that night. I did them again the following night and sat out in nature most of the night, admiring the stars and the night sky. I should have had a pen and my journal with me to jot down what came to mind. Ah, well. That’ll be for another day. 

Finding Joy in Despair

Have you ever wondered why bad people seem to get away with their actions, and likewise, why good people are often faced with hardships? Ever suspect that what we experience in life may just be an illusion or, in other words, a manmade creation only to make existence more bearable? Is there a godly man behind all of this? Is there an afterlife? And is our time here just a preparation for it? It could be that life is ultimately meaningless. The universe is irrational and indifferent to us. Humanity is nothing more than a cosmic joke. French-Algerian philosopher Albert Camus believed that life has no inherent meaning and is therefore absurd.

In a way, this might be a reason for despair, and a reason to end our own lives. But a meaningless universe is a way to free ourselves from from the shackles of hope and experience meaning more fully. 

A great deal of existence cannot be rationally explained, and therefore we have to find something outside ourselves to hold onto – things that gives us clarity and guidance in the face of the unknown. He found that religion is the answer and that we should take a leap of faith by embracing this higher purpose of life even though there’s no solid proof of its validity. Such an embrace may solve our existential angst, but it comes with a price. 

Philosophical suicide is what Camus called the solution of faith. Camus argued that reason has its limits and that our understanding is indeed inscrutable. He believed that life is meaningless and that all forms of meaning that we give to it are nothing more than constructs of the human mind. There’s no proof that the universe has a meaning, and if it does then we simply don’t know it. 

He states in his philosophical Myth of Sisyphus:

“I don’t know if this world has a meaning that transcends it. But I know that I do not know that meaning and that it is impossible for me just now to know it. What can a condition outside my condition mean to me? I can only understand in human terms.”

Thus he concluded that the only honest observation that we can know about the world is that it is meaningless. There are no universal values. There is no divine plan. Everything happens randomly. Life is absurd. But what did Camus mean with the Absurd? What did he mean that we, humans, are absurd beings? Or that the world around us is absurd in itself? 

The predicament we face as humans is that we are rational beings (some of us anyway.) We have a strong desire to create order and give meaning to life while we are part of an irrational and indifferent universe. The response from the universe as it pertains to our search for meaning is absolute silence. The Absurd is that we keep trying to make something out of this universe, understand a riddle, give meaning to its ways. As soon as we think we’ve grasped it, it slides through our fingers. 

The realization that we are a bunch of primates, living on a rock in a universe that is indifferent to us. After 100 years, our lives will be forgotten, and our planet won’t survive anyway because sooner or later it will be swallowed by the sun. This could leave someone to despair. Knowing this, we might start to wonder, “What’s the point in all of this?”

This is when one becomes aware of the absurdity of it all. 

Camus stated, “Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factor, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday according to the same rhythm. This path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the ‘why’ arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement.”

So, why are we here? What’s the point? To find rational explanations for these questions in an irrational and indifferent world is absurd, and according to Camus, the absurd cannot be negated. We can react to it in two ways: we can live it or we can escape from it. Many people explored this by creating ready-made answers. These may come in the form of religion, but there are also secular substitutes that attribute to existence. For example, the Nazis believe in a Master Race that is set to rule over all other races or the secularization over all other races, which makes the act of serving one’s country an ultimate concern. 

There’s the belief in karma, which isn’t always valid. Many bad people get away with their deeds and live happily. Many good people are faced with misfortune. The problem with all of these is that we set our rationalities aside and choose to believe in things that lack proof and explanation, or even go against our own experiences. Camus called this “philosophical suicide.” A way to allude to the absurd and placing the uncertainty of existence with a set of man-made beliefs. A more direct way to escape the absurd is the act of actual suicide, which according to Camus is the only real philosophical problem.

The issue with this is that we succumb to the Absurd. Admitting that the confrontation with meaninglessness and experiences of hopelessness is too much for us. In order to live life despite its absurdity, we ought to ask ourselves the following question: “Is a hopeless life in a universe that transcends it universally wrong?” No. A universe without meaning is an opportunity to let go of a life without meaning. The harsh reality comes to the surface.  Instead of despairing because of that, we can choose to see the silver lining. There’s no loss in judgment, no afterlife. We can focus completely on this life.

When there are no transcendent morals or values then we can create our own. When our time on earth is limited, along with our perception of it, we can just make the best of it and have a nice, hot cup of coffee, or a joint, or do a bump. Whatever gets you going. 

Camus believed we shouldn’t accept the Absurd. We should revolt against it because even though we are powerless and ignorant when it comes to the bigger picture, we still have control over our faculties. The only way to be free from unfreedom is through rebellion. 

According to Camus, the Absurd hero lives life to the fullest in the face of the Absurd. Despite the invitation of death, he will not end his own life – no matter if it’s philosophical or physical. Even if this means a life of despair, he chooses despair. 

Living an absurd life means an indifference to the future, the rejection of hope, and the lucid experience of what’s happening in the moment. 

“Hence what he demands of himself is to live solely with what he knows, to accommodate himself to what is and to bring in nothing that is not certain. He is told that nothing is. But this is at least a certainty. And it is with this that he is concerned: he wants to find out if it’s possible to live without appeal.”

Living without appeal means living in a present moment and not wanting anything more from a conceptual future. To point out what it’s like living without appeal Camus pointed to Sisyphus. Sisyphus made a mistake and challenged the gods and was punished by having to roll a block up and heal and do it all over again once the rock rolled back down time and time again. He repeated this process for eternity. 

Sisyphus’ existence is so meaningless and hopeless that trying to give his action any meaning is totally absurd and there’s the appeal: living without appeal. Our actions do not mean leaning toward something better in the future. The meaning lies in the act itself, which is sufficient to be content in a hopeless life. 

The gods based the punishment of Sisyphus on the idea that there’s nothing more dreadful than endless and futile labor. But this simply depends on the position we take towards that. 

So what if we imagine Sisyphus happy? What if he finds joy in despair and refuses to bow to the misery that life throws at us? Is there anything more rebellious than finding joy in what’s supposed to be our punishment? 

Covid and Camus

Albert Camus’ philosophy of the Absurd, in particular in his book The Myth of Sisyphus, challenges reason, logic, and rationality; describing our limits and understanding of the world as humans, and testing the laws of the philosophy itself as almost useless and negating. Camus was always asking the age old question: “What is the meaning of life?” 

If we knew the answer to that question, we’d know how to act. The question of acting is an ethical question. What should we do?

The traditional answers to these questions have, from millenia, come from religion. Religion tells us what we should do and why we should do it. We should not kill because we won’t go to heaven if we do. Answering these questions secularly becomes a bit more difficult. For Camus, it was ridiculous. How can we know what to do with any certainty when even the clearest questions have exceptions? 

“I shouldn’t kill? What about in the last resort? What about for protection? What about to save the lives of millions?”

Every single action is laden with these problems. Every decision could be the wrong one. Every movement has an infinity of alternatives. 

In every day life, we act through habit. We wake up, eat breakfast, go to work. We rarely have to think … really think. Only when we’re forced to do we ponder ethical problems. Heart attack? Global warming? Maybe I should take up cycling. Thought requires force. “Is my boss being unfair by requiring me to come into the office?” “Should I shut down my small business and lose my ability to live?” When we try to work through these problems, there’s often no right answer, only bad choices with limited information.

Decisions often have to be made with a gut feeling, not a rational confirmation. 

Camus writes, “The Absurd is lucid reason knowing its limits.”

For Camus, the absurdity of habit and the limits of any transcendental reason that’s illustrated by the image of Sisyphus, condemned by the gods to roll a boulder to the top of a hill only to have it roll back down again. In Sisyphus, Camus sees the human condition at its darkest. However, he highlights the moment when Sisyphus makes it back down to the bottom of the mountain toward the rock. It’s in this moment that Sisyphus is most aware, and most aware in the truth that everything becomes clear. We can acknowledge our fate and return to it anyway. Knowing that absolute truth is unavailable and being resolute anyway as a demand of being human. 

Camus writes that all of Sisyphus’ joy is containted therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is his thing. Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols, we become most human and most free when we acknowledge this. We must live with an awareness of this absurdity. Risk being frozen and numb into an immobility. Fate is being able to act without being sure how to act. The important thing is not to be cured, but to live with one’s ailments. Life is unjust, incoherent, and reprehensible, and you must live anyway.

The question is not how to act, but to act. Until we solve these problems, like we have the injustices of the past, only inaction is immoral. Complacency and indifference are inexcuseable. The absurdity of enjoying the lack of clarity and acting any way that’s integral to the human condition.

Camus makes the case that rebellion is distinct from revolution. The rebel is not the revolutionary. The rebel, in fact, is a moderate. It’s somebody who insists, on the one hand, on telling that individual or that institution that “Here the line must be drawn. You cannot do this to me.”

Something worth highlighting, especially as we’re confronting our own pandemic, is that the plague in his novel The Plague, for Camus, dramatizes a permanent truth of our condition, which is that we’re all vulnerable to loss and suffering. No one escapes it. We’re all victims in that sense, and Camus thought we should always take the side of the victim. And if we were able to do that, then maybe we could build a real human community, or what Camus called an “earthly kingdom.”

There’s a moment in the The Plague where one character says to the other “Let’s take a moment off for friendship.” And they go for a swim in the Bay of Algiers, in the Mediterranean. And it’s silent. They don’t say a word to one another. And at a certain moment while they’re swimming, their strokes begin to synchronize. They mesh. And it’s one of the most extraordinary beautiful images in the novel. And perhaps by holding on to this image of just trying to synchronize our lives with one another in ways that speak to our shared humanity, our shared dangers, our shared aspirations, that would be a wonderful thing.

Albert Camus’s story reminds us of the enormous respect and admiration of the human spirit when a plague such as COVID-19 befalls us. There are many modern versions of the doctor in the story who have cared with the utmost professionalism and decency for those severely afflicted by this modern plague.

No One Likes Admitting When They’re Wrong

I’m including myself when I say that. My last post was concerning the coronavirus and how it has all been hyped much like several other things in my lifetime such as H1N1, Y2K, etc. so I decided I wasn’t going to take it seriously. The more I read about it and watch the news, the more I realize that I was wrong to not take this seriously. Precautions do need to be made when going out. I do wear a mask if I go into public although I hardly ever do. I kind of like wearing a mask when going into public if I’m being honest. As someone who has never liked the way he looks, wearing a mask in public make me feel more comfortable being at home.

I’m having to have my therapy sessions done via video calls for the time being. I had my first one last week, and my psychiatrist asked how I’m dealing with everything going on right now. I told her I’m being cautious, but not paranoid. I wash my hands and wear gloves and a mask when I go out, but I’m not digging a hole in the yard to build a bunker or anything. If the end of the world happens then I’d like to just sit on my front porch, sipping some whiskey, smoking a cigarette, and watching it happen.

I was talking with one of my best friend’s girlfriends about the whole ordeal a few weeks ago and we discussed that something like this was bound to happen eventually. The planet doesn’t want us here anymore so maybe we should just pack our shit and call it a day. I may sound like a fatalist when I say that, but it’s how I feel. No matter what we do in regards to this pandemic, it’s going to do whatever it wants and I don’t think there’s anything we can do to stop it … at least not anytime soon. What do I recommend? Just buckle up and ride it out.

I gave up on my hopes and dreams a little over a year ago. I don’t strive for anything anymore. I’m just defeated. Maybe this pandemic is just what we need.

Everyone disappears, no matter who loves them.

Be Afraid and Buy Shit

It appears I haven’t written in a while. It’s hard to write about anything when you don’t even want to get out of bed most days, but I’ve gradually pulled myself back up out of the pit that I was in for months. I’m not fully out of the funk, but things are getting better. I’m trying to make the best of each day. I have my good days and bad, highs and lows. My psychiatrist increased my meds, but my insurance won’t pay for the increase so the doctor gave me free samples of the increased dosage. The intrusive thoughts aren’t as prominent as they once were. You’d think they’d be worse what with the whole COVID-19 bullshit going on and all. That’s actually why I came on here to talk to whomever reads this damned thing.

It seems that things are getting worse and worse if you listen to the news. That’s all they want to talk about. Is nothing else going on in the world? I suppose school shooters are on vacation because they realize they won’t be getting any attention any time soon. I’m not saying I’d rather kids go back to shooting up schools. I’m saying we have a new scare tactic to focus on to remind people that the world is a dangerous place and they need to go out and buy stuff to keep the economy going. Buy, buy, buy; spend, spend, spend.

Every so often we go through something like this. Some pandemic happens and it’s all the media can focus on to keep the masses afraid. Give it a few months and it’ll blow over, we’ll have another election, and in another four years we’ll have something else to fear so we can elect some other incompetent putz who claims they’re going to save the day.

There’s no setting people’s minds at ease. It’s much easier to keep them afraid so they continue to spend their hard earned money on shit that’s not going to work. Money fixes everything in America. Am I right? I thought I was going to have more to say about this, but I’m sick of hearing about it, which means I’m already sick of writing about it. Forget everything I’ve said, hunker down in your bomb shelters, shut out the world, wait for everything to die around you, and the living will let you know when it’s safe to come back out and continue being good little consumers.

Don’t Let Me Get Old

I went with my mom to visit my grandmother in the nursing home today. I try to go with her whenever she says she’s going and asks if I’d care to join her. Lately I haven’t been up for doing much of anything since the depression has gotten bad and has lasted a lot longer than usual. I managed to go tonight, though. I watched as my grandmother said grace a total of six times, forgetting she had already said it time and time again. I watched as she talked to the baby doll my mom brought her as though it was an actual human being. I watched as she talked to people in her life who are long dead. I watched her jabber on about nothing at all, not making any sense whatsoever.

I also looked around the dining hall where a lot of the other patients go to have their meals. Some of them can still feed themselves. Others need help. A handful of others can’t communicate at all and are all but vegetables sitting in their chairs. It makes me wonder what they’re holding onto and why life allows them to keep going. It also made me think, “I hope I’m dead before I ever reach that point in my life.”

I’m reminded of a joke by Bill Hicks when he was talking about people reminding him how bad smoking is for you. “People say quitting smoking will prolong your life. They don’t tell you if a prolonged life is a good thing. I haven’t read the statistics on that one.” Why do people want to live forever? My grandmother is 91 and has no idea who she is, where she is, who anyone is. I don’t want to be trapped in my own mind, having to be fed by others, having others give me a shower, having others wipe my ass for me. If I get to that point I hope I have enough of my mind left to put myself out of my own misery.

I have tried taking better care of myself as of late. I stepped on the scale recently and noticed I am down 40 pounds, which I am proud of myself for getting there, but I still have a ways to go. I know I’m not going to live forever and I don’t want to. I struggle with wanting to stick around a lot, though. I dread waking up most days. I have thoughts of suicide race through my mind constantly, but I try to shake them off. I’m not quite ready to leave just yet. If you ask me tomorrow then I may tell you something completely different.

I don’t know what I want from one day to the next. I just know that I don’t want to be like those I see in the nursing home. I don’t want to have to be fed, bathed, and clothed by others. If that ever happens then I may just pay someone to “accidentally” forget about the air bubbles in my IV.

How Can This Mean Anything to Me…

… if I really don’t feel anything at all?

It’ll be a couple of months before I see my psychiatrist again. I’m wondering if I should make an appointment because as of late I’ve just been having this overwhelming feeling of apathy. I looked up what I was feeling and it seems that I’m struggling with what is called “anhedonia.” Most people think depression is just moping around, feeling like Eeyore, but this is something different. It’s just a complete and total lack of enjoyment.

As I may have mentioned or hinted at in my last post, I have always loved reading, but right now I can’t sit still long enough to read. I used to love going for walks. I’ve mentioned that I can’t drive anymore, but I would still enjoy going for rides to town or taking a trip to a friend’s house. Not anymore. I just want to feel some kind of pleasure. Hell, if I’m being totally honest, masturbation isn’t even fun anymore.

Life has just become banal. I hate waking up. I hate getting online and checking in with friends. I hate going out to try to meet new friends. I used to go to the bar to chit-chat with the bartenders and others, but I don’t want to do that anymore, either. On top of the depression I don’t feel anything but boredom and ennui.

I wake up and step outside and see the world around me and just think “Fuck. There’s absolutely nothing to look forward to today. I’m going to do absolutely nothing except go back inside, maybe eat something, and I’m going right back to bed.” I feel bad for my dogs, honestly. I know they want to go and do and go for a walk and I have to muster up enough energy to take them for their walk. That’s one thing that bothers me the most. I’m unable to take my dogs for their walk so I know they’re getting bored, but they also don’t understand that I’m just not feeling up to it.

I’d let them run loose if I could, but one doesn’t get along with other dogs and I fear she’s going to attack someone’s dog as they are taking it for a walk. I pretty much just walk mine to keep one of them under control so there’s no lawsuit involved. I get awakened by them in the morning and I just think, “Leave me alone. You don’t understand. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to leave this bed. Just let me sleep until tomorrow, let me sleep until the day after tomorrow and the day after that.”

All I want is sleep. My dreams are more fun than my reality. I had a dream last night that I was flying. That dream was interrupted by the dogs wanting to go out, but it was too dark for me to walk them and I didn’t want to let them roam free because who knows when they would come back? I feel like I’ve posted about this before, but I can’t keep track of anything. I’m having deja vu right now. I guess that happens when every day is exactly the same as the last.

Sometimes showering is a chore. It sounds gross, but I go for a few days without showering and have to muster up enough energy to turn the fucking shower on in the first place. Things that used to make me laugh no longer do: funny movies, stand-up comedians, memes, etc. None of them do me any good and I hate it.

Music doesn’t even hold the same effect as it once did. I’m tired of listening to music. I’ve heard it all before. I have a couple of concerts coming up that I’ll be attending and I’m worried that I’m going to feel this way when the concert date arrives.

Fuck it. I’m going to go smoke pot to escape what I’m feeling (or in this case not feeling) right now.


Boredom’s Not a Burden Anyone Should Bear

I wake up every day just like everyone else does that hasn’t passed away the night before, but here recently I’ve done nothing but wake up stressed and anxious. I go to bed stressed and anxious. I have had to take my anxiety meds more and more as of late, which I don’t like. I feel like my skin is crawling most days. I feel like crawling out of my skin. I can’t sit still, I toss and turn in bed, trying to find the most comfortable position. When I do find a position that’s comfortable it doesn’t last long. I have to switch from my left side to my right and then I’m on my back once again with my hands over my chest, fingers interlocked. I was told by a friend of mine when we shared a hotel room together one night that I look like a corpse when I sleep. At least the dead sleep soundly.

New Year’s Eve was an enjoyable night for me. I got to spend it with friends I don’t get to see very often. However, I’m unable to stay up as late as I once was. I think I finally crashed on my friends’ couch around two in the morning. I remember the times before when I was able to stay awake, drink, smoke pot, and talk about virtually anything until nearly six in the morning. Two in the morning is late for me now. I find myself going to bed around 8pm or so these days, sometimes even sooner than that. I’m not even tired when I go to bed. I just have nothing else to do.

I have new books to read to keep me busy right now. I am able to get through several pages some days and others I can’t finish a paragraph before that feeling of wanting to break out of my skin happens once more. I don’t want to be dependent on meds, but they’re the only way I’m able to feel some sense of normalcy. I’m stuck between wanting to do something and wanting to do nothing at all.

Why aren’t we able to just sit and be bored? Why can’t I just lie in bed and be happy that there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go, no obligations to meet? It’s hard for me to go out anymore. I just can’t bring myself to be around other people. New Year’s Eve was an exception. I had a great time with my friends, but there was still that part of me beforehand that was wondering if I was going to change my mind and just stay home and ring in the new year in a slumber. I’m wondering if my meds need to be changed again, but my psychiatrist said she doesn’t like to switch or alter meds during the holiday season. Who knows? Maybe if she went against what she likes doing with her patients then I’d be OK right now.

Then again, maybe I’ll never be OK. The suicidal thoughts aren’t as bad as they once were, but they’re still there. They happen mostly at night, but not always. Sometimes during the day since it’s just me here with nothing to occupy my time and the anxiety that hits me out of nowhere that I just want an out. Yet I press on. I think I’ll press on right now by taking a nap.

Fuck. I’ve only been awake for four hours and I’m already wanting a nap and fantasizing even more about tonight when I get to sleep for 10-12 long hours only to repeat the entire routine all over again the next day.

It’s a Sorry World

I took the title of this blog from a song by a comedian I always liked: Tim Wilson. The opening lyrics are as follows:

You can go to war when you’re 18,

But you can’t buy a beer.

You can launch missiles from a submarine,

But you can’t buy a pistol here.

You can breathe chemical weapon fumes,

But they don’t want you to smoke.

So if you’re shooting up a bar in Baghdad,

Don’t order a rum and Coke.

I spent the new year with some near and dear friends as I do every year. We talked about things normal people talk about: funny shit from the past that we did, religion, how much everyone and everything sucks, politics, etc. I was not aware that a federal law had been passed that bans the sale of tobacco products to anyone under the age of 21. Since when did the Republicans start meddling in state affairs? I thought they were the party completely and totally against that. I guess it just goes to show you that Carlin was right. This country was bought and paid for a long time ago by people with deep pockets. None of them give a shit about you or your rights. They believe in taking your money and telling you what to do.

I’m a firm believer in being able to do as one wishes as long as you’re not hurting another human being. If you want to smoke, drink, do drugs then that’s all fine and good with me as long as you’re not inconveniencing someone else or causing them any physical harm. I’m sure you’re harming those around you who care about you, but that’s a post for another day (another day where I’m probably not going to feel like writing.)

You now have to sign up for the draft at 18, you can buy a gun at 18, you can go and fight in a war you don’t believe in, kill others in different countries, and bomb the shit out of said countries all you want … just don’t you go thinking you can come back home after doing all of that and enjoying a smooth cigarette or a delicious beer. You can kill people by the dozens, but you’re way too irresponsible and immature to handle your alcohol and tobacco.

Welcome to America. You are free to do as they tell you.

Anti-Natalism Chronicles XIV: A Return

It’s going to be hard to type this since I’m on a different computer since my Mac is being serviced at the moment so sorry for any mistakes. It’s a bitch getting used to a different keyboard when you’ve used the same one for three years now. I wanted to talk once again about anti-natalism since that’s mostly what my blog is about and one of my main beliefs as a person.

I was sitting outside just now, having my morning coffee when I started thinking about my last relationship and how it ended because she brought up the fact that she wanted children one day. We had known each other for seven years. We dated for two of those seven years. She knew how I felt about having children and at one point said she didn’t want any, either. Out of the blue one night as we were lying in bed together she said she thinks she may want them one day. “Well, you know how I feel about that. Besides, you know I’ve gotten a vasectomy so it’s kind of a done deal for me.”

No harsh words were spoken or exchanged. We didn’t argue. We just kind of decided that this was one area where we weren’t going to be able to reach a compromise. There is no compromising when it comes to children. You either want them or you don’t and I don’t.

I had always joked that every girl from my hometown was born pregnant because they either had a baby by high school (middle school in some cases) or it was the first thing that happened after high school. Practically everyone I know now has at least one child so that sucks for me as far as dating is concerned. It’s just one of those things that’s a definitive “no” for me. Kind of like anal is a definitive “no” for a lot of women. Hey, you don’t do butt stuff. I don’t like kids. I respect your decision to not do butt stuff. Respect my decision to not have children.

I don’t think I’d make a good dad anyway. It’s not like I had a positive influence in the dad department growing up so who’s to say I wouldn’t be an asshole just like my father was? I’ve also got the mental and physical health issues going on so why would I risk bringing a child into the world with said issues? That’s something I’ve never understood about people who have mental issues, emotional issues, health issues, etc. that are genetic.  If they’re genetic and you know you risk passing them onto your offspring then why do you go ahead with having your own offspring? Kind of a dick move on your part.

Maybe I have more compassion than others or I give myself credit for. I don’t want to bring any children into a world such as this one; a world plagued by violence, climate change, disease, and a number of other things that could go wrong and do go wrong on a daily basis. I see commercials for hospitals for children with cancer and just think to myself if only their parents didn’t have them at all then those children wouldn’t be going through what they’re going through right now.

We all want suffering to end so shouldn’t we be stopping it before it begins? There’s no suffering in non-existence. I’ve never once met a person who didn’t exist that had cancer. I’ve never once met a person who didn’t exist that got murdered for no reason at all. Call it a coincidence if you want, but I think there’s something more to my theory here.

If you already have children then by all means, love them with every fiber of your being and take care of them to the best of your ability.

If you don’t have children then do what’s best for the children you don’t have and leave them be in whatever dimension there is before birth. All that comes with existence is suffering and eventual death and heartbreak.