Rebel Wrote:@Beasty
That is all probably true but you think that will hold me back? If you live a life with that mindset then I truly feel sorry for you. I also like to help the people in my community because I know there are the "socially mistreated, the intentionally abandoned," (etc) people out there. And this is why I want to try to help more people in my future by going into something dealing with human rights after university. I want to die knowing I changed someone's life. I already achieved that goal so I want to achieve more than that. Most of what you wrote is complete bullshit.
Just stop feeling sorry for yourself and at least try to do something with your life. Don't waste time writing multiple paragraphs on this site because the fact is that it won't achieve anything except make me type back. I really didn't want to waste my time typing this up but whatever.
It's not feeling sorry for myself, It's called being honest with myself. Nobody gives a fuck about me, nobody gives a shit if I am here or not, and that's just the truth.
I mean in one sentence you're saying "that's all probably true", and then in the next sentence you say "most of what you wrote is complete bullshit". All this tells me is that you haven't really thought about this at all. It's just an emotional, knee-jerk reaction. The truth of your disposability hurts, at least for awhile. Some people shower themselves in praise or ambitions as a means to preserve the sanctity of our narcissistic viewpoint within a world that runs contrary to that idea. But that's just it, it's false hope. Sure, you're one in a million. If a craftsman makes 100 hand made tables that look slightly similar to one another and sells em for 10 bucks a piece, well those tables are one in a million too, but they'll never be worth more than 10 bucks. That's the reality, sure there's only one Jeff, but does the world
need him? There's only one Beasty too, but I'm not so conceited as to believe that makes me a special case in any way.
And really? Do something with your life? What do mean by something? You mean something someone else values? If my ambition was to sit on here writing paragraphs, am I doing something with my life by conversing with you? What if I dreamed of being a mass murder- if I fulfilled that fantasy does that somehow make me more valuable as a person than someone who wanted to too but never did?
You don't think about any of this stuff, it's blatantly obvious when you think this about self pity, as if I am so low as to only provide enough introspect in the topic to satisfy my own ego. Maybe that's your gimmick, but don't include me with such common modes of philosophical integrity. Because unlike other people, these questions ARE my life. They say we live vicariously through our own thoughts and actions, and they in turn decide who we are. And to that extent, my life could seem like the greatest disappointment story known to man- a tragedy that would send Shakespeare packing. My mind is a stage hosting constant RSA talks about the failures of our socio-economic institutions, the cultural acceptance of "good enough", the human resistance to change and how important it is that we overcome that obstacle at this point in our history more than ever. The objective reality of existential relativism (and how that isn't actually a contradiction).
And yet, what is my position in life? What merit do I personally have inherently within me? None whatsoever. To anyone with a strong grasp of the current societal context underpinning our lives, I'm worthless, despite the very nature of my legitimacy. A system designed a
and perfected to systematically weed out individuals like me from the fray. I've given up expecting maturity or care from people and the world. I no longer expect love or generosity or friendliness from other people because I understand how they have no incentive to give me such trivialities. It's a dog eat dog world, and I'm at the bottom of the food chain. I'm not warranted those social niceties because of my standing. So yes, I no longer expect or even hope for these things- but what hurts the most is that I dream of them. Every night I am whisked into a place where the evil I've become melts away, and I begin to feel true belonging in the skin of another me, one who had and made a better shot than I did- until the chain of reality pulls me back in for another licking with it's switch. It's all learned behavior. As George Carlin put it, "Scratch at the surface of any cynic and you'll find a disappointed idealist." The first time I read that quote, it stung. It stung deep, and I knew why. I knew that at the end if the day, if I could remake my own image, I'd shed this spitefullness and sorrow and then I'd eradicate the things which had caused me to construct such psychological walls.
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