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I Don’t Know

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.

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The Shelter… And My Reflections On The Right To Death

I’ve been meaning to tell you about the shelter.

It’s where I work now. Among 134 homeless people. 

I work on the women’s floor. My office sits by the middle-front of the unit surrounded by 54 beds separated by shared cubicles where the women rest their heads every night next to the little property they have.

This job is teaching me about gratitude. Resilience. It’s awakening me to make smarter choices in finances, health, family. It’s teaching me what NOT to do. 

I am seeing how blessed I’ve been, despite my hardships.

I fight back and fourth in my head about this “blessed” mentality, though. Because some people are fully responsible for where they find themselves. Sometimes it’s not a matter of being “blessed” or not but a matter of taking control of your life, making healthy choices and not fucking up.
 
But there are times when people are just struck by sudden misfortune or they’re dealt challenging cards right from birth. Yeah, I give those people a pass — but not forever. The tools, resources and help is out there if you take it, apply it, and make the best of your situation. 

Reflecting on this topic makes me want to talk about death.

I’ve been meaning to write on this subject FOR A VERY LONG TIME NOW.

Contrary to popular opinion, I am a HUGE advocate of euthanasia. 
Not only for elderly people who are suffering with no chance of recovery, but for ANYONE who does not wish to live.

I think people should have the full right to life but also a full right to death.

Why shouldn’t I have a right to my death? It’s MY life – so why do I not have the right to say at what point I want it to end , especially if it’s going to end one day anyway? Shouldn’t I get a say of exactly when if I so wanted to? My vote is yes.

I’m totally digressing from my original topic – the shelter – and am opening a whole other can of worms here. I know.

But part of the reason I am connecting the two is because of the suffering I see. 

I don’t know what happens after death, no one does for certain, I don’t think. 
BUT if we knew that death is in fact a “get out of suffering card” why shouldn’t it be an option for people?

Why should people continue to live in suffering when they can be at peace through death if that is what they truly wish?

I believe in assisted suicide.

I believe that people should be granted a funeral at their time and date of choosing. 
I believe it could be a beautiful and peaceful ceremony where the dying person can choose to pass away into peace rather than remain alive in suffering just waiting to get hit by a truck or slowly die of cancer or even violently kill themselves. 

I know this is a strong statement. And not a lot of people will agree.

But I am sticking to it. 

I am speaking for those who are suffering and in pain and who would rather rest in peace than live in suffering. 

This is what they say:
“I am hurting. I don’t want to live in suffering. I don’t want to be here at all. I just want peace and rest. It’s my life. I have the right to say what happens to it. And I choose to opt out of this suffering I am in. If death truly is the cure to this suffering, please let me have it.”

I’ll probably talk more about this in a future time, but for now – these are my reflections on the matter.
 

 

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John

I will tell you about John.

John is a good guy. He walks around trying to do the “right thing.” He smiles at people hoping people will smile back. He yearns to connect; he yearns to be accepted and to accept back.

John loves all people. Even people with three or four heads and eyes. Even purple people, blue people, orange people and invisible people.
John is very curious.
John is scared sometimes because he doesn’t like pain. But he does like it when the nurse comes along and rubs alcohol on his boo-boo. It makes him feel loved. Like someone cares about his well-being.

John likes to play. He wishes he could play all day. He wishes he could climb trees and pretend he is a pirate looking out into the ocean for some loot and new found land.
But there is a thing called “job” he has to do.
John doesn’t necessarily dislike the idea of a job – he understands how important functions are to a well operating society. What John doesn’t like is when he is forced to play roles he doesn’t feel comfortable playing.

John wants to walk around the world and give everyone little paper hearts because he wants people to remember how to love.
John wants people to know how to see not just with the eyes, but with their whole entire being.

John gets angry sometimes. He gets angry when the world expects him to be more than what he already is. It is not that John doesn’t want to be more – or “expand” as he would call it, it’s that John wants the freedom to grow at his own pace.

John doesn’t like when he is corrected in a condescending way.
John wants to be the best John he can be and wants to be spoken to in a loving manner, not in a punishing manner.

John is tired now.

I will share more about him another day.

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