We're all fucking morons.
I love our many colors and our many cultures. There is so much to be learned from our differences, so much personal growth to be had in the discovery of something foreign from our individual make-up.
Unfortunately, our species was endowed with this baffling paradoxical nature, equally capable of hate and violence as love and understanding. I would happily sacrifice some of the wonders of our existence that are born of conflict to see us stop killing one another. To see evil no longer be a situational requirement of our lives.
Thus, I would be perfectly happy to see humanity evolve into a species of monochromatic unisex organisms whose prevailing emotion is empathy.
I’m weary. Here I sit with this privileged life, having only suffered minor - and often self-inflicted - hardship, yet I’m exhausted. Unfortunately, my exhaustion is not from the type of positive effort I wish I consistently put forth towards the betterment of my soul and this world. Rather, it is the type of fatigue that comes from overthinking instead of doing. From lamenting instead of fighting. From suppressing instead of coping. An underwhelming sense of dread.
The world has suddenly developed a dramatic love affair with fascism, authoritarianism, and racism. Let’s call the combined three-headed monster of negative ismry, suckism. I know, suckism has been brewing for a while, but the movement’s most recent leap into the mainstream has been a dramatic eye opening for all of us who were piddling along the timeline of our mundane existence thinking things were generally moving in the right direction, however slow that movement may have been. We’ve now come to discover what we can only hope is the last spastic gasp of this utterly vile aspect of human horseshit.
Of course, it really doesn’t matter if suckism gets eradicated (which it won’t), now that we’ve discovered our destruction of the planet is accelerating at an alarming rate of...acceleration (that’s right). It’s possible that if my poor behavior doesn’t kill me first, I may yet live to see humanity’s destruction on a global scale. Despondency invites itself to my home for dinner before the show. I tried hiding in the basement, but I left the front door unlocked.
I don’t want to grow old and watch the world die alone. I could still have a family. A partner. Children. Grandchildren if I’m lucky. Then I realize I’m not certain I could live with the guilt of bringing them into this world. I’m not certain I’m happy I was brought into this world. I mean, each and every one of us is brought into this world against our own will, then told to sink or swim. Some of us get thrown life preservers and some get chained to rocks, but none of us asked for this horseshit. Anyone who loves their life is basically suffering from Stockholm syndrome. How could I do that to someone else, simply hoping they are way happier to be alive than I am?
Oh well. Maybe I will get to witness society crumble as mother nature ravages humanity. Maybe I will get to take sides in the last great battle between human good and evil. If shit hits the fan soon enough, I suppose I could get into that. We would fight for the sake of goodness and hope in the face of impossible odds. We would have children in the midst of all this madness, as propagation of the species would once again be paramount. We would win the war, pay homage to mother nature and play by her rules, raise our children to understand the madness that led to this and endow them with the knowledge and wisdom not to make the same mistakes we made.
But I’m already so tired. So tired, and there’s work on Monday. There’s bills to pay. We’ll just have to figure all this other shit out later, when we have more time. When we’re not exhausted. Not so damn weary.
I probably just need some exercise.
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