im really, you know, just your average pessimisstic atheist. which begins my following rant. hey, tell me this, why would you go to sleep tonight? to wake up tomorrow? why wake up tomorrow? to live the day, you might say, but why? why live the day? for a future, maybe, full of excitement, joy, grief, love. but... why? you go through a routine of getting together with a girl, having a family, allowing the recession to throttle you by the penis, your family leaving you to try and rebuild their life with a more optimistic atmosphere without money stressing their everyday routine. but then what? once you're alone, maybe you can find another girl, a cute, sensitive one, with blonde hair, one who indulges consistently in sentimentality, into sometimes surreal pap. but why? what does love offer, exactly, but a glimmer of hope? and what is hope? all this enigmatic intricacy only leads up to more and more wonder, and eventually we'll reach our patience with attempting to discover a meaning, and then what? we go back to our normal lock-step, banal life. after you've decided to just live life and have fun with it... i mean, how is that possible, realizing you're not making a contribution, and why bother making a contribution? what, you think you'll feel some satisfaction in your grave? you think your inner sub-conscious will rejoice in how you so much improved our precious economy? no, it doesn't work like that. you live, you die, the end. end of fucking story, mate. you may have some fun along the way, and you may have to deal with alotta bullshit. but wouldn't it be a relief to know that all you do you do for a reason? that's why i'm a heroin addict. because a good shot is like your best orgasm multiplied by a thousand. sure, you may die at a young age, never bear children, and have wasted your life, but what life exactly are you wasting? and don't you wanna make the best of it, then? you may think: when is this guys tedious soliloquy going to end! he needs help! sure, this is a tedious soliloquy, but this is also a tedious life. and you also may wonder: well why not kill yourself? and all i have to answer to that is a big fuck you. this may be a meaningless, bleak life, but it's got to at least be worthwhile, eh? this entire rant really just sums up my point... how does one make life worthwhile? by... diving into intellectual pursuits and granting the world a gift with your elusive knowledge? by putting food on the table? really, whether by directing an Oscar winning film, or living out in the streets, dying of a renal failure or emphysema, your affect on YOURSELF is no different. you may feel satisfied or ashamed... but why? you may affect society with your profound art, but to yourself, you're the same, cynical asshole, and in a few years, you won't even know it because you'll be rotting 4 feet underground. i sometimes ask myself when i think so deeply "well, what are you gonna do about it? you constantly bitch and whine and bitch and whine about life, it's like your having a mid-life fucking crisis". to this, i reply "well, if i had an answer to life, or an upbringing conclusion to all this fucking desolation, i'd probably go through with it." to which i replyy "well u aint gonna find it, so just live life." but WHAT IS LIFE. WHAT AM I LIVING? AM I LIVING FOR SOCIETY, MYSELF, YOU, HER, HIM, THEM, IT? Is there a god? is there really a paradise after death? well, i sure hope so, because another second of this dejection without even a glimmer of false hope would kill me. so to conclude, im just some random guy with an ordinary life, trying to make ends meet, trying to block out the realism of it all, like why the fuck should i bother. also fuck you.