From a post I made on the richarddawkins.net forum:
I can't imagine a life so fulfilling I don't mind dying. By the same token, I can only imagine truly welcoming death if life was so horrible, not existing would be immeasurably better. The older I get, the more I think it's all the same. I mean, I'm glad I'm not scrounging for scraps in Calcutta, but that doesn't change the most inescapable fact about any life.
I think I'm still in the acceptance phase for all of this. I've realized that nothing I could do--hunting terrorists, writing symphonies, serial-killing, spending the rest of my life in a bottle, contemplating my navel--will protect me from death. In that sense, it's all the same thing, all means the same thing. Now I just have to figure out how to make that work for me. Thank goodness I have the rest of my life to do it, though, cuz it ain't gonna be easy, lol.
So . . . where's the rage, then? I was so angry yesterday morning--had been for so long. Angry that I would die, and that my consciousness wouldn't go on. That everything I was brought up to believe was bullshit. That nothing really matters when at the end of even the best life, there's a pretty big-ass brick wall.
But now . . . I'm just . . . I dunno. It's like I don't feel anything anymore. I mean, I still find stuff kinda funny, or kinda annoying, or kinda whatever. But I don't feel things deeply, fully anymore. And why should I? None of it matters, right?
Is that wrong?
"If nothing we do matters, the only thing that matters is what we do."
From Angel, the Series. Possibly one of the most awesome quotes ever, because it's true. Eerily yin yang. It's like a reversible coat, only both sides are rockin, instead of just the one side. Yet I can't help seeing the glass as half empty. Very much: if the only thing that matters is what we do, then nothing matters.
I'm trying here, really, I but I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. With anything. What I should be doing.
Here it is. The second of your daily dose of Ridonkulus angst. Try not to choke.
"The Seether is neither big nor small. The Seether is the center of it all."--Veruca Salt