Sweet Mother Misery

You are enjoying it. Every time you frown, every time you sigh, every salty tear you shed, deep, deep down inside, you are enjoying it.
It makes you feel deep. It makes you feel sorry for yourself. It makes you feel good and kind. It makes you feel anything.
You are enjoying it. Every insult, every boring job you take, every time you feel so stressed out and tiered you feel like you are simply going to lay down and die, every time you girlfriend cheats on you, ever time it hurts like hell, there is this itsy bitsy part of you that’s saying: “Oh yeah! Give it to me baby!”
You are enjoying it. Otherwise you would stop. You either wouldn’t do the things that make you miserable, or you wouldn’t let the things you have to do get to you.
Or you would simply tone it down a bit. You wouldn’t fuss about having no girlfriend, no money, no car, no friends, no joy in life. If you really wanted any of those things you would stop complaining and find them. But instead you just make these pathetic little attempts to make yourself happy, and the moment something goes wrong, you run right back into the lap of your dear, sweet, old mother misery.
Because you are enjoying it. So stop complaining and enjoy.

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Think, God damn it! Think!

Our world seems to work on the twisted principle of precedents. If the same thing happens a large number of times, it becomes normal. It even becomes good. If not good, than not bad. That is simply sick.
For example: millions of people are doing jobs they don’t like. We all know it. We think it’s sad, but we won’t do anything to stop it. It’s sad, but it is normal.
It’s not. It’s not normal. It’s not even sad. It’s sick. It’s at least eight hours a day, every day of your life. Eight hours is a half of your waking life. Take away commuting, and showers, and eating and it’s more than a half. And you are spending it doing something you don’t like. And you really think that’s normal? No you don’t. You just don’t think. You simply take it head on.
But let’s look at another example – the other side of the not thinking medal. The things that really piss you off. Like that little bimbo who just flashes her legs every once in a while, and gets a paycheck way bigger then yours, and you are working your ass of while she just smiles at clients. It’s just killing you. It’s normal that it’s killing you.
Why? Why is it normal? Why do you want a bigger salary? So you could by a bigger TV? A faster car? A smaller cell phone? A bigger house? Do you really need that crap? Of course you don’t. You know that you don’t.
But you’ll say that’s not the real problem, the real problem is the leggy bimbo whose paycheck is as fat as you are. Why in the world is that your problem? Is she hurting you? What is she going to do with the extra money? Get more short skirts? More plastic surgery? More makeup? Go to the Bahamas? Adopt a child? Why in the world would you mind that?
Because it isn’t fair? Fair? What’s fair? You spending forty hours a week working a job you don’t like, so you could by crap you don’t need? Getting more and more bitter with every breath you take? Losing faith? Losing hope? Being constantly afraid of everything and everyone? Forgetting how to really talk to people? Being pushed around? Pushing other people around? Having nightmares, and waking up and wishing you stayed asleep with the bogyman? Is that fair? Is that fair?
Think about it. Think. You are doing all this to yourself, simply because you are too lazy, or too scared to stop and think every once in a while. I bet that if you didn’t get yourself into this kind of crap, the leggy blond wouldn’t be such a big deal problem.
So think. What is the worst thing that can happen if you do the things you’ve always wanted to do? What if you quit your job? Will you really starve to death? What if you do? That isn’t much worse than slowly dieing every second you spend at the office.
Think. The next time you reach for your little plastic card, think about the crap you are piling up and stop buying. Are you really ready to work 500 hours for a new car? 5000 hours for a new house? 50000 hours for ten years of comfortable, consumer driven life? Do you really love that stuff that much?
Think. The next time a bully pushes you around, think about the worst thing that can happen if you fight back. A black eye? A broken nose? A night in jail? Is that really too big a price for growing a spine?
Think. The next time you feel afraid, or stressed out just think. What is the worst thing that can happen? It’s usually way better than what you are feeling right there and than.

How it all began

How did I start writing these strange and disturbing things? I'm not shure. I guess I was bored out of my mind and had no choice but to start thinking. At first, the things that would come to mind were nice, kind of comforting. I figured out that this world is big enough for me to enjoy living in it, and that I am the sole creator of my destiny, and that misery isn't necessary. That was great. I was happy.
But instead of just stopping there I went on. After a while, I figured that misery isn't so bad. And hunger isn't so bad. Nor pain, or hate, or lust, or poverty, or well... anything. It's all just life. It's not bad. There is no bad. Or good. Just choices. That kind of an idea takes a bit of time to sink in, but when it finally hits you in the head you find yourself sort of stranded. Sitting on the edge of reality, looking inside and thinking: "This can not be real."
The world you see once you really open your eyes and start thinking, makes absolutely no sense. What we do to ourselves makes absolutely no sense. All the misery. All the pain. Boredom. Do we ever ask: "Why?"
I did. And I found some really, really strange answers.
And why do I feel the need to share them with the world? I don't. I don't feel the need to save anyone. But it's nice to write.









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