Kishi: A search for reason…

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This Life is Futile

Part 1

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Life, in and of itself, is simply one great futility. We are brought into this world in a fit of chemically induced lust, our decay beginning in our conception, the only reason for our existence to perpetuate the cycle.

Humanity strives to break the cycle, but it is worthless. They try to be unlike their parents, try to be better than everyone else, try to start a revolution against the system, stick it to the Man.

But what's the point? Nothing changes, really. The children try to be unlike their parents; however, their parents strove to be unlike their progenitors, so such is pointless. They try to be better than everyone else, but then, everyone is trying to be best, and that position can only belong to one. They wish to become revolutionary, but they are simply in revolt against an institution that was itself a revolution once. Revolution is not revolutionary at all, but rather is just a repetition.

There is no point. After all, life is futility.

How did I get here, you might ask? I arrived by being who I am – the outcast. The wretched. The deplorable. I warn you that this role is incredibly romanticized, for the fantasy outcast is some sort of enlightened one who doesn't fit in because there is nobody who can quite handle this one.

I on the other hand, don't fit in, because I simply don't fit in. I'm no good with art (all stick figures I draw have a distinctly feminine look due to an inability to draw straight lines). I'm no good as a martial artist, because no matter how hard I try, I make just enough mistakes to ensure that I will stay on the current plateau. I have no skill with programming, no musical talent, no literary ability, nothing, nada, nai.

People say I have some intelligence, but the only criteria they have are grade letters on a slip of print-off paper, and can you really trust something like that? The only meaning those letters have for me are that I simply happen to be good at doing what others tell me to do.

While everyone else I know turns their gazes in towards the 'group,' losing themselves in their ignorant bliss, I cannot because I don't fit in. I think I truly realized this when their attempts to assimilate me earned my scorn and hostility (but not that I let on – what's the point? I have no strength to make a difference…).

No, rather, I turn my eyes inside, to the part of me that no one believes exists – the darkness, the weakness, the pain. People believe that I am some sort of saint, but they think so in ignorance. If they saw inside of me, saw the anger I have struggled with in the past, saw the hate I have borne for myself and for those things that have made me less than I meant to be, I honestly think they wouldn't be able to handle it.

I am weak, because on my own that is the only way for me to be. Everyone else is somehow stronger physically or mentally, and they delight in showing off their abilities; I don't show off because there is nothing to show. The pain I bear inside of me is a result of that, because people come to me with their sufferings, begging me to help them, make them better, take the hurt, make it stop – and I can't do a thing about it! I have to stare as these people destroy themselves, and there is nothing I can do.

I live a life without purpose, but in the end, who doesn't? After all, life is futile.

But there has to be more than that. There has to be a reason. There has to be meaning, has to be purpose, some defining piece of the puzzle that we just don't understand yet.

There has to be a reason for the darkness inside of me.

There has to be a reason for the thin shaft of light inside of me.

There has to be a reason for humans to exist. Everything else in nature makes sense, every part with its piece and purpose, regardless of whether it comprehends or not. Therefore, there has to be a purpose for humans as well.

Fine. Let them all concern themselves with art and machismo and their empty ideals. Let them have it, for even with these things they are without purpose.

As for me, I will dedicate myself to finding this purpose. And once I find it, I will dedicate myself to understanding it.

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Kishi: Finished near 2 am on a Sunday morning. Shows, don't it? But there is more coming…

The Bible is copyrighted to God Almighty. May He have mercy on my soul if He should sue me.