non-existence

The truth is that I don’t know.

Everywhere I look there is someone claiming knowledge.

But what do I know? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

There is so much information. And my barely average intellect can’t even begin to comprehend.

And it leaves me frustrated.

To survive in this world I have to submit myself to work. To provide some sort of service in exchange for credits (a.k.a money, a.k.a physical representation of energy exchange) that I can then use as leverage to obtain other goods and services.

I’m over it. I really don’t fucking care. Why do I have to participate?

I hope the atheists are right – that when you die nothing happens. Because FUCK having to do more stuff after all the stuff I’ve already done.

I don’t want to deal with reincarnation and all other kinds of bullshit. I don’t want to fucking participate in this charade of existence.

It’s nonsense and I don’t care.

Or maybe I do care.

I don’t know.

I just get into these spaces sometimes. These spaces where I really just don’t give a fuck. And then there’s this part of me that feels bad for confessing this because some of you will judge me saying “How could you say such a thing? Life is precious. Don’t be selfish. Don’t think like this. Don’t be negative.”

FUCK THE FUCK OFF.

Let me have my thoughts — you go ahead and have yours.

No. I don’t always think like this. But sometimes I do. And I don’t think it’s bad that I do. I actually at times really do think that not existing is better than existing.

If I didn’t exist I wouldn’t even have to think about whether or not existence or non-existence is better – I WOULDN’T EXIST SO IT WOULDN’T FUCKING MATTER — isn’t that blissful?!

I think it’s fucking blissful.

All this bullshit about good, bad, ugly, beautiful, existence, non-existence, is all a matter of discussion for those who exist and have some kind of a brain to ponder and reflect upon existence. But honestly, I could do without it. And I don’t care if that sounds negative to you.

I mean… suppose there really is some grand fucking purpose to life and it’s some beautiful ass fucking shit… cool? Then what? I don’t get it.

I enjoy the black screen. Those nights when I’m asleep and it feels as If I don’t even exist. I don’t see a need to come back to this bullshit and do things and talk to people and play fucking pretend.

There’s a part of me who feels she needs to apologize for saying the above. But not because I really feel bad for saying it, but because I feel bad for being judged for saying it.

These are my thoughts, though. And why should I hide them?

I don’t really know what the point of this post is. Which I guess brings it all back full circle.

I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know what the point of all this is. I’m just going along with the system I was born into and trying to do the best with the limited knowledge that I have.

I have a lot to be grateful for. Things could have been much worse for me than they are. Things also could have been much better too, on the other hand. But either way I am who I am and I’m doing my best with what I have.

Some days are better than others. Some days it even feels like it all makes sense.

But other days, I just don’t give a fuck.

But honestly, I just don’t know.

I’m having doubts about sharing this – which is something that never really happens since Reflect Out Loud has always been about me sharing my raw thoughts in a more tangible format.

But I’m gonna share it anyway.

Fuck it.

YOLO, I guess…

I don’t know.

I want to be a dream.
I want to morph.
I want to be light.
I want to make love to you,
and to seduce you.
Then walk away –
and run wildly back into your arms
because my absence never fazed you.

I want to be beautiful like the models on TV.
Not just this average beauty. This “We’re all beautiful in our own way” kind of beauty.
But truly stunning. You can’t get your eyes off stunning.

I want to be beautiful on the inside too – because that’ll make me even more beautiful.
Inside and out. Not just one or the other – both. Not just average but whatever comes right before perfect if perfect isn’t an option.

Then I want to be alone. Alone to love myself. Alone to be perfect – whatever that means to me because what it means to me is always enough when I don’t need you; when I don’t want you.

But then I want to see you. You who is almost perfect. And I want to love you. And then I want to leave you because your imperfection bothers me. Because I want to feel superior – and actually be superior. Not just in theory. Not some narcissism. In truth and in every way better and more perfect than you.

Then I want to cry and feel sorry for myself. Sorry and guilty for ever wanting to be better. And for actually being better.

Then I will humble myself. I will be imperfect. You will have all the right to shine, even brighter than I. You will have right to be anything you desire because you deserve a chance if the game is to be fair and foolproof. This will be the way to prove that I am not necessary. To prove that I am creation and that perfection is irrespective of me even though it is me — it is you. This is the way it’s been all along.

Everything will be fair. Balanced. And it’ll be utterly boring to the wise. Utterly predictable. All it will mean is that everything is possible. And what’s the fun in that? You will know all the answers and pretend not to know. And for what end? Just to live out stories. Stories after stories. And so it will be. I’ll live my story. You live yours. We live ours. And so on ad infinitum.

Then I want to find – I don’t even know what I’d like to find after all that.
It’s never enough because the story never ends. The end is the continuous search because there’s always more. There are no limits. There’s always more. There’s always more. There’s always more.

What satisfies me is to forget. Forget all of it. Forget the stories. Forget you. Forget me. Forget life. Forget all realms.
The black screen forever. Pure nothing. Finally I can rest. This is my favorite place to be. At rest. Not in some point in time telling stories after stories. Not living story after story. But Here. Beyond the Silence. In the Eternal. In the nothing. As nothing. For nothing. Through nothing.

Because only when I am nothing I do not want. Only when I am nothing I am truly perfect.

In being nothing there is nothing I could ever fall short of. There is nothing to miss- nothing to lack – nothing to need – nothing to want.
To not exist is better than to exist.
Because in non-existence there is no such thing as better. Nothing wrong. Nothing right. Literally nothing.

Nothing.

Mmmm. Perfect.

But I cannot convince you of this. It would just be another story. My position versus your position and vice versa as it always is in this dimension of reality. You must come to know it yourself – through yourself, for yourself.

Meet me in the nothing. I’ll be waiting for you. Let’s be together as none again.

And when we are done, if ever, we can always come out and play again. After all, even though I hate your never ending stories, I love you enough to listen.

“See” you there.

Tag

non-existence

I Don’t Know

Want Not to Want