The human condition is that we are all little pink-eyed bunny-rabbits lopping self-deceived across the grass heath of existence, our weak oracular organs incapable of seeing the thousands of kites which hover above, and which only chance not to eat us because there are so many others to choose from.

My metaphor doesn’t really hold water. Let me start again:

 I’m lonely and frightened. More and more I'm faced with the fact that while life is fine and all that, there's just so damned much of it. Some might argue that 80 years isn't that long, but if 80 years is all anyone will ever have then it's infinity. I'm only twenty years in and it's already been a long haul. And this is just with family life and school. I'm frightened to think of the amount of crap I'm going to have to go through before I'm dead. In sixty years I could be a talking head in a jar working as an accountant on Mercury, with broken air-conditioning and no money to fix it because I've got child support to pay as a result of several unhappy marriages. And there are fish in the jar.

Which is to say that while I enjoy living it is a hassle sometimes, and the only thing that stops me (and probably a lot of other people) from topping themselves is the lack of a viable second option. No matter how tedious and ennui-laden existence must be, at least you get to exist. It's like holding the camera in the porno-shoot of the universe.

Which is a roundabout way of saying I've got the Existentialisms.

 

Tags: feelings
Current Mood: Hamlet
Current Music: Slowdive - always and ever Slowdive