There's the gap, and you can't make it.
Sasha and I could trade mental blows and discuss meaningless, circumnavigational, self-contraditory and, on the grandiose scale, internally conflicted philosophy for days and pages. However, for the sake of brevity and the purpose that such bluntness brings, I shall stop here, and answer the question, offering none of my own.
What are we here for? Why do we exist?
What's it matter? The fact is, we exist, and there's very little that we can do to change that. Granted, we can all go drink the green Kool Aid or take a dosage of hot lead, but what's the purpose in that?
So, I guess the remaining part of the question is "why are we alive" in the sense of "why don't we all kill ourselves".
I'm alive for nights like these. Zipping home on a fog-flooded road, unable to see five feet in front of my hood, and still speeding like my life depends on it. My feet anxiously wait on the brake, as if hoping for some unknown obstacle to leap into my path. Isn't that funny, how we try to put ourselves in danger that much, that we all have these self-destrutive tendencies. Whether it's simply driving too fast or drinking and driving or smoking or putting ourselves in any otherwise unsafe situation, we pine for death like our lives depend on it.
And yet, once we hit that threshold, only the truly insane pass it.
Of course, anyone with an IQ of 180 or higher is, statistically, insane.
So... the intelligent choose to die.
Well, maybe it is the right path.
Maybe...
But I can't die.
I was meant to be born, there is a cosmic reason that I exist.
Why?
Because I was conceived through a condom and a diaphragm.
And I've survived at least five near-death experiences.
And I'm here now.
And I can't just stop here.
Because I exist to prove a point. Not to succeed, not to find happiness or love, but to prove that statistics are moot. If I am to die tomorrow, then so be it. My death will most likely be due in full to my loud mouth or destructive decisions, so I really can't blame anyone or lie to myself and try to pretend that I care for my life to such a degree.
Somewhere, society went horribly, horribly wrong.
What are we here for? Why do we exist?
What's it matter? The fact is, we exist, and there's very little that we can do to change that. Granted, we can all go drink the green Kool Aid or take a dosage of hot lead, but what's the purpose in that?
So, I guess the remaining part of the question is "why are we alive" in the sense of "why don't we all kill ourselves".
I'm alive for nights like these. Zipping home on a fog-flooded road, unable to see five feet in front of my hood, and still speeding like my life depends on it. My feet anxiously wait on the brake, as if hoping for some unknown obstacle to leap into my path. Isn't that funny, how we try to put ourselves in danger that much, that we all have these self-destrutive tendencies. Whether it's simply driving too fast or drinking and driving or smoking or putting ourselves in any otherwise unsafe situation, we pine for death like our lives depend on it.
And yet, once we hit that threshold, only the truly insane pass it.
Of course, anyone with an IQ of 180 or higher is, statistically, insane.
So... the intelligent choose to die.
Well, maybe it is the right path.
Maybe...
But I can't die.
I was meant to be born, there is a cosmic reason that I exist.
Why?
Because I was conceived through a condom and a diaphragm.
And I've survived at least five near-death experiences.
And I'm here now.
And I can't just stop here.
Because I exist to prove a point. Not to succeed, not to find happiness or love, but to prove that statistics are moot. If I am to die tomorrow, then so be it. My death will most likely be due in full to my loud mouth or destructive decisions, so I really can't blame anyone or lie to myself and try to pretend that I care for my life to such a degree.
Somewhere, society went horribly, horribly wrong.
posted by Dylan at 9:20 PM
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