Weaker moments

Maybe only out of ignorance would a human detest a perfect being and his perfect plan.

Let us depart from my reproach and your ambiguous hints. Let us discuss and decide, and I hope to replace my ignorance with unshaken confidence. Take my weakness as a bargaining advantage, as I’m desperately looking to negotiate.

I will never understand you, until I understand natural disasters and unearned punishments. Because unless you assure me that my misery would not be just another natural disaster, I have no faith in your goodness and no respect for your twisted plan.

If I died either out of misery, or as a result of a natural disaster, both scenarios would fit perfectly with your perfect plan.

I reach the same conclusion in your presence and your absence. But in my weaker moments, I look to the sky and I pray.

Please, let your mercy come as a natural disaster this instant. Bury me in your flood. Cleanse the world of me. Cleanse my memory of the knowledge that I once was.

Good things don’t happen to us, and we don’t deserve them

Today, 10 years from today, and 100 years from today are all the same.

You are only an actor in a play, what is yours is to play the assigned part well, not to choose the part (1). That’s what someone said hundreds of years ago. I find it curious that he was a slave; that he was assigned a terrible role in this play.

Really, why would a happy person bother with roles and plays?

It is curious that his quote is needed only by those with terrible parts. If I believed him, then I might as well believe that there is a special place in heaven for me. Where everything will be compensated.

I might as well believe that incredible patience is the best of qualities. I might also believe I will live forever in heaven, never bored of having everything everyone could want at all times with no purpose but being happy.

I wonder if habitants of heaven are allowed to be sad, or if they are relegated to hell if they ever feel sad. How ungrateful! How especially ungrateful to feel sad despite God’s best offering!

Maybe people with great parts can be equally miserable. But I am unsure if I only believe it because I’m clueless. Clueless of what how it feels to be happy; to be sufficient in what you have and not searching for something unknown.

Even if God offered me the choice between heaven and hell, I wouldn’t know what to choose. It would be unbearable to go to heaven, and to have every possible pleasure, but to still be miserable. It would mean that I could never even begin to comprehend happiness.
But it would be unbearable as well to go to hell. At some point, there will be a confrontation. I will have to explain to myself that after incredible patience comes infinite patience; acceptance, submission, and surrender. I will have to wonder about the possibility that I was one of those who enjoyed their lives, or one of those who went to heaven and remained happy.

It is too much to ask, even of God. It is audacious to refuse the best and the worst, and to ask for something unknown. Something that is either better than the best, worse than the worst, or something in-between.

 

(1) Source: Manual of Epictetus

Maybe they were right

I guess there might be some correlation between doubting your faith and becoming miserable.
I can see how this can be told as an example to those who still believe.

I used to think that someone with faith can never doubt, because something so true cannot be confused. I rejected the examples I was told, because once the Truth is found, it cannot be lost, and those who have lost their faith must have never really been faithful.

Honestly, I never feel more worthless than when I observe the similarity of humans to animals, when I think of intelligence as simply an added useful thing. And I have never felt more secure than when I saw humans and animals as completely different. When Heaven gave every reason to be alive, and Hell gave every reason to be good.

I prayed, not expecting an answer, but for the general good. I was the only animal in a room full of blessed beings, and I was envious. I felt expelled like the Devil.

Late at home, my eyes red from the lack of sleep. I do feel like the devil. But I am human and I am weak, and if you exist and if you have any mercy then I beg you to be merciful.

 

By everything

Barely conscious, but barely able to feel any kind of pain.
Only the essential pains I feel.

By God, by every divine and undivine being, I will not remain helpless towards my own life.
By all the angels that have guided me when I was once worthy, and by all the devils that grasp my mind today. By myself, by everything.

I swear, and swearing is meant to be most honest.
I swear and all of those testify.

On an indeterminate day, at an indeterminate time, I will be most determined, as determined as a living thing can be.

One more cigarette

The last cigarette of a pack that I haven’t touched in 11 months. Here I am, and here it is.

I used to wonder how anyone could willingly inhale something that destroys him. But it’s clear to anyone who has ever smoked. I exhale this disgusting mix of vague emotions, and I wish naively that less of it remains in me. I don’t want to talk, and I don’t want to feel. I want to exhale silently.

More deeply, I just want to vanish. Without questions or explanations, just to close my eyes and never see the light again.

Oh God, are you there to hear my desperate cries?
Please take away everything that you have given me, everything.
If this is a test, how wonderful of a master are you!
I give up. I lose. I fail.

With as much confidence that I exist now, I am confident that I will die one day. I will leave the places that I’ve lived on and they will be occupied by others. Everyday between today and then is a punishment that only a masterful mind could incur.

What more evidence do I need more than that my punishment fits my crime?
If you existed, you would have hated me, I’m sure.
If you exist, you would condemn to Hell in life, and fire in the afterlife.

Who am I to argue that I deserve your mercy?
Who am I to argue that I deserve to die?

My enemy is the judge himself, and the judgment, and the law.

Can I ever win?

Let us inhale and exhale, we win if we die, we win and God loses.

Am I not the devil?

Sufficiently far for everything to seem small
I am either closer to God now, or on the other side

But my eyes are red and my soul is dark;
Am I not the Devil, the opposite of God?

Am I not far because God has expelled me
to save every other creature of His?

But how would God punish me in Hell when his greatest fire ignites from within me?

I realize now that my punishment started when I started
for an unacceptable crime that started when I started

A collection of thoughts

White, and as far from the darkness of my soul as it can be. I wonder if I was buried and overwhelmed by the snow, would I be cleansed and born anew? Or would I be the spot that tainted its purity?

I wonder if my life could never have been anything else, if I would necessarily make the same choices even if I was given a new life. I wonder if that is exactly what defines me and every other human. Would it be choice if it cannot be otherwise?

I wonder if God is not a person, but a force; above right and wrong, perfection and imperfection, and above most of what we attribute to it. Something more similar to gravity than an entity that feels and speaks.

I wonder if we have got it all wrong. I wonder if the closest thing to being in heaven is being reborn a plant that is free to appreciate the sunrise and the sunset everyday. I wonder if being a lifeless object is an even higher heaven of being freer from any needs. I wonder if nothingness is the highest of all, being free from everything including oneself. Maybe since I cannot become nothing, then the most I should hope for is to become a lifeless object, a collection of chemical elements and no more than that.

I wonder what would happen if all living things die. Would the world forever remain silent and lifeless? Or would those conditions resemble how the world was when life started? Would life simply begin to form just like it did once before?

A history defined by the tears

I believe my character can be very accurately explained by the moments when I cried.

I cried when I was 15, after we spent summer with relatives. I had such a good time that I knew it could not be reproduced. We were growing, and we knew a few years later some of us would be in college. Furthermore, at that time two or three years in age difference mattered a lot more than when I was 10. I was more aware of the effect of time than I have ever been.

I cried when I was 16, after my father told me I was rejected from an abroad summer research. He said he received the message on his phone. I thought he was teasing me since my grades were a lot higher than required. He smiled, and his eyes showed sympathy. I looked to my mother in distress, she had the same smile and the same sympathetic look. I slowly escaped to the back of our house, and cried where no one could see.

I cried when I was 17, at the end of a school competition in eastern Europe. Everything was so different, and I wanted to be there. They seemed to be happy and I wasn’t. “Why were my features different than theirs? Why wasn’t I born there? Maybe then I would have been as happy as they seemed to be.” It was then that I became the most religious and patriotic in my life. Only the promise of an eternal life in heaven with everything I want could make me see any point in living. I prayed in nights, and I truly felt close to God at points. I also began seeing my national identity as very important. I read old books, and tried to speak the way they did. A subtle attempt to convince myself that I was what I wanted to be, and that their happiness (which I could not obtain) was not what I wanted.

I cried when I was 18 on my mother’s shoulder. I was leaving for a college far away. We weren’t close then, me and her. I would say we were even more distant than we should have been. I was scared of the unknown. But I chose to exchange the ugly known for the unknown.

I cried when I was 19 in my dorm room. I felt very lonely when tens of people were in the same floor as me. A year has passed during which I have walked alone everyday in a swarm of people. I used to think they could not detect my loneliness.

I cried when I was 20, when me and my instincts fought over one fundamental view of “the right decision” and the action to be done. Even the promise of heaven could not help me then. It all seemed to me as the drug I administered to myself in order to compensate for my hatred of how things were. It seemed like using drugs or alcohol; I was constructing a world where I would be happy, but I became aware that it was not of the same kind my real world was. If there was a God, I would have hated him. If there wasn’t, then I was doomed to my life and nothing more.

Although I was calmest, in years, when I was 21, I cried occasionally for a general feeling of unhappiness. Nothing specific.

Over the last month I have cried so many times for many different reasons.

Yesterday, I made full use of the fact that this is a school holiday. I went to one of my class rooms at night, the lights were off, and very few students were on campus (the unlucky ones, I thought. Felt some sort of a bond between us). I sat down in that empty classroom and cried for a while, and then I pushed the seats out of my way and laid on the ground.

Is it so irrational to surrender while it is still a choice?

When the battle has already been lost, it means nothing to surrender. The harm, all the harm, has been done. The little hope left in the future will be comforting, because it means giving up is still a choice. When there is no hope, I will be forced to surrender, and I will be defeated.

I will save us from that fate, I will save us.

The one where I play the devil’s advocate

In case the title was not clear enough, I will play the devil’s advocate. This usually helps me in either confirming my current more, or finding holes in my logic.

The Devil’s advocate will ask me question which are highlighted. These questions will be ones I either ask myself or I imagine opposite views to ask.

 

Devil’s Advocate: Hello there, how are you doing?

Me: You want the short answer? or the real one?

 

D.A.: Um, both?

Me: The short answer is good. The long answer is: well, I’m dropping out of college because of depression, I have deep issues with God who I thought once I was close to, and I have very little to no joy in anything knowing death awaits. so… yeah.

 

D.A.: I was looking for a “good” “not bad” kind of thing. Anyways, moving on. Let’s start with the R word: religion. What exactly are? theist or atheist?

Me: Currently I believe I’m closest to being agnostic. I grew up very religious though.

 

D.A.: What changed? How can a religious person change drastically like that?

Me: First of all, my rule in religions is as follows: everyone is entitled to whatever makes them happy. Therefore, i will try as much as I can to not offend or try to change anyones belief. About the change, there were many reasons. Most of them were not specific to my own religion but just to the idea of God’s existence as we know it today. I grew up in a religious family and I did not know alot of people of other beliefs. So I imagined my religion to be the true religion; that everybody knows it but they ignore it because they don’t want to follow rules. However, as I grew up and got to know people of other beliefs, I found out that there were other people confident as much as I was in their own beliefs. This was a major problem for me. If someone was as confident as I was  but in a different religion how can I tell which one is true? And more importantly, can I tell which one is true?

This had led me to another observation: I believed in my own religion just because I was born in specific circumstances to specific people who believed in that religion. My next question was: can I objectively tell why I find my religion to be “the” true religion? This question right here summarizes why I am agnostic today.

I don’t believe I can objectively verify many of the religious arguments.

 

D.A.: Let me stop you right there. You say you can no longer believe in religion because you can’t objectively verify it. Does that entail you won’t believe that planets exist? Since you’re not an astrologist, you can’t objectively verify it.

Me: That is a good question. It may seem contradictory of me to believe planets exist because astrologists say so but not believe in God when theists say so. However, I don’t find this analogy accurate. The difference is, the possibility exists for me to verify planets existence. I can go study astronomy and verify that planets exist. Facts like that usually have an agreed upon definition that most scientists who studied the matter found accurate. In religions however, there are tons of religions and it’s impossible to verify whether a religious argument is true or not.

 

D.A.: Ok. You use science as the opposite of religions. But didnt science itself evolve throughout the years? Some facts are proven to be myths later in history, and some myths are proven to be true. How do you reply to that?

Me: Again, mr devil’s advocate, I don’t think you are focusing on our real subject. Yes, science has evolved through the years. Yes, new science sometimes proves old information false. But how does that help me verify religious arguments?

I don’t worship science, as a matter of fact, I don’t care for science unless it makes my life better (technology). I don’t exactly believe in science; so you can’t say i contradict myself when I “accept” science but no religion.

 

D.A.: Fair enough. Lets change the subject. You seem very uninterested in life recently. What seems to be the problem?

Me: Well, as I started to grow up, and to see how big the world is, I became more interested in being subjective. That is, think everything with a third person’s perspective. Hence, I used you here, devils advocate. I like to think of things using an impartial brain, not my brain which is filled with my own wishes, dreams, and hopes. I thought this was the right way to think. However, it made realize a lot of harsh truths. I am one single person withing millions of people. Millions have existed before me, and millions might exist after me. My whole life span is nothing but a very tiny portion of history. School, career, and success seem very insignificant when you think about it this way. I started to think of my existence. I will live a small portion of history, throughout my life I have a daily struggle of staying alive.  I have a lifelong struggle of achieving my small and age-dependent goals. But why? It does not seem very different from the life of an animal. Almost purposeless. Exists only because it does. void.

 

D.A.: deep stuffz! But a lot of people seem to be happy, even you yourself you were happy when you were younger, werent you?

Me: I don’t believe I was ever happy. I was happier than I am now, but I was not generally happy. I was very self-centered, consumed in my own individual life. I only worried about success and achievement which i occasionally achieved. But throughout it all I definitely had more worries and issues than happy times.

 

D.A.: Ok, maybe you were not happy yourself. Do you believe there are happy humans on earth?

Me: Thats a difficult question. I believe some people find ways to make the best out their existence. Do I believe thats happiness? No. If someone shot me, and I knew I was definitely dead but I used the last few seconds to convince myself  i was sadistic and that I liked being killed, would you consider that happiness?

Sometimes I think happiness is almost impossible to define because happening is almost impossible to exist. I use “almost impossible” because I recognize the possibility of me being wrong.

I am no expert, I just try to think subjectively.

 

D.A.: So you’ve lost your faith in religion, and you find happiness “almost” non existent. What gets you through the day?

Me: Nothing.

I don’t get through the day. Seconds are very long. Activities are very empty.

 

D.A.: Why are you still alive then?

Me: I imagine my life as a novel. Every day is a page, and everything I do that day is written on it. The reason I’m still alive is, whenever I do die, I want to look at my novel and have no doubts, no second thoughts, no regrets. I want to to say “Look! You’ve been through all these pages. You’ve done this and that. Now its time to end the novel. There is nothing more you can add without repetition. There is nothing more to try. It is time to give up.”

 

D.A.: Do you believe you have the courage to give up?

Me: I do. I just do not have the courage to face death.

 

D.A: So where does that leave you?

Me: I don’t know. I guess somewhere in that “hanging around” area. You know, the people who just exist. Nothing special about them. They have a lot of resentment, but a fear of death as well. So they just float around until death decides to take them.

 

D.A: Do you fear that fate?

Me: Very much. But I will have to decide if I fear death or that fate more.