Not too many years ago I would look at someone strangely if they questioned their existence. These days I would probably say something like, “I know how you feel.” My life isn’t really all that different from back then except the fact that I’m older and wiser. I’d like to think I’m wiser anyway but I might just be crazier.
I think my lack of life loving stems from my unwillingness to evolve in the same way most guys my age do. I have no desire to start a family and commit to all the things that come along with that. There really aren’t any goals that I have that I feel will bring me immense joy once I accomplish them.
Do I believe these aspects of life are the keys to happiness? Not really. But if you believe they are then it will keep you going. I don’t have nothing really keeping me going except a possible more exciting future that is starving for hope as each day passes. What I have sort of figured out is that your life will seem to have more meaning if you have regular excitement or misery in your life.
Excitement, yes but misery? See, if you have misery in your life, you will live your life trying to climb your way out of that shithole. You’ll just keep thinking to yourself about how happy you will be once you’re free of whatever crap you’re in. It’s like the light at the end of the tunnel. For many people life is built on a continuation of falling into shit or voluntarily jumping into shit and then digging yourself out. Once we get to the light we look for more shit. Of course if your misery is inescapable then you’ll probably want to die or just get fat or something.
Another thing to having a desire to live is feeling important. You have to feel that your existence is important somewhere, somehow or to someone. I feel if I died it wouldn’t matter much to anyone. I’m not sure if my mother would even cry at my funeral. Everyone who knew me would go on living life exactly the same the next day and even mentally it wouldn’t affect them too much. I guess this was the case all along but before I must have thought my existence had a spit of importance. It was probably an ego thing. Everyone is too caught up with chasing the carrot to really sit down and analyze your life and death.
Life is too easy. Food, shelter and safety are pretty well taken care of so for the not very ambitious you might have nothing to do but go a little crazy. Imagine if your day consisted of hunting for food and being on the look out for some apex predator wanting to rape your whole body with its teeth. There would be no time for thinking and wondering what the meaning of life is. The meaning of life would be to not die. Staying alive would be that shithole you had to dig yourself out of and if you got to the light there would be a new hole the next day. Not to mention your life expectancy was a lot shorter so you probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to ponder about your existence in such detail.
So what or why am I living for? I’m not sure and I no longer can fool myself as easily as when I was younger. I’m just living cause it’s easy right now. I work, come home, eat, sleep. You’ll always hear me curse about how everyone in society are a bunch of brainless, closed minded followers but I pretty much believe it’s easier that way. If life were to ever become more difficult without a reward that I deemed fulfilling, I think I would just beg for permission to move into a buddhist monastery.
I’d like to end off by saying that I’m not anywhere near suicidal. I know this cause I have no intention yet of spending my life savings and have not rung up any credit card debt at all. Also, I’m still eating vegetables and not very much junk food. Be worried when you see me driving a brand new sports car with a trunk load of potato chips.