u/Senior_Library_1583

Human society is but a snake pit, a hall of mirrors for narcissists. It is a grandiose championship for those who can autoeroticize themselves the best—with their cardboard houses, tin-can cars, and all those obscene diamond rings that look the same—while trying to pull you into the same frame. They seek to make you believe that what they claim life is supposed to be is true. Shame upon you if you do not aim for what everyone else aims for. And when you refuse to obey the norm, they inevitably treat your existence with disdain, starting to categorize you as if you suffer from some sort of disease. They put tags and labels on you, looking at you like a malfunctioning machine, all in an attempt to evoke feelings of inferiority.

Meanwhile, if you had been born a few hundred years ago, before contemporary industrial society, and had chosen to live the same lifestyle you do now, they would have labeled you a monk, a hermit, or even a saint. What a joke.

I am of the opinion that the most humiliating experience one can have on this planet is not only possessing a body but simultaneously being human. Unlike other animals, which depend on their species and possess a more limited consciousness that enables them to understand their situation and role in it, the human experience is invariably worse. This is due to the single fact that we possess a faculty of consciousness that is entirely in a league of its own compared to that of other animals on this planet.

We understand our needs and can perceive the changes occurring in our bodies in real time throughout the years. These changes are exemplified by the gradual loss of vision, muscle mass, back pain, chronic diseases, and tooth loss. Moreover, these afflictions are not even guaranteed to appear only in one’s later years of life, as many young people suffer from them as well.

If one wishes to secure some false sense of protection from them, one may attempt to adopt a healthier lifestyle and undergo periodic medical examinations. However, to afford this, one must work extremely hard and essentially suffer in the present so as to potentially avoid suffering in the future. Despite doing one’s utmost, it is still possible to end up soaked in one’s own urine and feces while confined to a wheelchair.

This is it. This is your very existence. This is your life. You are not some sort of omnipotent being that can bend the natural laws to suit its own needs and desires. You cannot do the impossible. You are but a microscopic organism living on the crust of a tiny pale blue dot floating in the endless expanse of space, without purpose, without meaning, and without a destination.

There is no grand plan here. There are no guaranteed promises of a transcendent existence beyond this. You are not better than those fragile slugs without shells that are trying to survive. You and your species are not the result of an intelligent, wise creator. You are a mere, unpleasant coincidence—an abomination.

You then proceeded to clone yourself over and over again, although you knew better. Yet you kept going in this futile endeavor, as if there were something here beyond consumption and reproduction: me, me, me. I am the center. I am the truth. It cannot be any other way.

You keep yourself hooked on your fragile little lies like a pathetic junkie in the back of a dead-end alley, praying to the void and fashioning from its glacial silence creeds of your own that feed your malnourished ego with self-importance.