Random Musings

It’s just another choice. Pepperoni or Barbecued Chicken. Coke or Thums Up. Blue or Green. A building terrace or a razor blade. Life or Death.
Disappointment is an easy thing to live with. As someone I love and cherish says, “It’s so easy to live in the complacence of it all.” So true. I look at all the great paradigms of the unrelenting human spirit, and I ask why? As far as I know, there’s no special club in heaven for fighters and strugglers. So why do we struggle?
I’m not being fashionably cynical. I’m not questioning just for eyeballs. This is something that genuinely puzzles me. We’re born. We eat, breathe, make our parents’ lives generally shit for a while, fuck family over for friends, fuck friends over for lovers, fuck lovers over for OTHER lovers and eventually fuck ourselves up the worst. At least, that’s the typical way of things. It’s a pretty simple life.
Mundane, some would say. Boring. Too generic. We want to be different. We want to be unique. We want to stand out. But what happens when everyone does so? We’d be different in different ways. We’d be the same. Adversity shows man at his strongest. Bullshit. Basic instinct says take the easy way out. So why be all moral and “right”?
Do we even know the reasons for majority of the things we do? Our actions are basically driven by three basic needs – food, protection and mating. Shooting down innocents in cold blood – what’s the motive behind that, douchebag? Dying accidentally on purpose? It happens. Sad ain’t it? Twisted games of cheating death. That sudden rush of adrenaline knowing that you just escaped non-existence. If you can take your life so lightly, you probably don’t deserve to exist anyway.
Now well thought out suicide is a different matter. People call suicide, cowardice. Possibly. But what about a person who actually has nothing to live for? His family hates him, probably wants him dead anyway. His dealer’s looking for him – he owes the guy money. He just saw his girlfriend in bed with his “best friend”. He just found out that his pet dog [let’s call him Benson] got run over by a logging truck. His house got seized by the bank and now he’s fucked. Life? Death? Somewhere in between? What’s right? What’s easy? What’s the big fucking deal?

Signed,

You choose.