Why I Haven’t Killed Myself, Yet
It’s strange that I have bothered to hang around this long, considering all the nihilistic thoughts that populate my brain.
I was about 17 when it first occurred to me to ask myself, ‘What’s the point in being alive?’ And over the next 50-odd years I have repeated this obtuse question, and I still come up with the same answer: No point. I am not able to justify my existence, and as a consequence, have failed to develop a socially acceptable outlook on three important levels. Firstly, how I perceive myself; secondly, how I view my fellow human beings; and thirdly, how I see my place in the cosmos.
How do I see myself? Most people work very hard at constructing a heroic image of themselves. The moment I get started on any such image building activity I am stopped in my tracks by the sound of sniggering at my shoulder. I suddenly feel embarrassed, as if I had been observed practising a smile in the mirror, or someone had opened the door to find me busy … Read more.
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