Hello, I'm not entirely sure were to go with this. Not sure if it's in the right place. If not, move it, delete it, whathaveyou. Not sure what to say, or who to say it to. Or even if I did, what the end result would be, or what it is that I'm hoping for. I don't know what I want, and I don't know if I'd be satisfied if I got it. I guess I want what anyone wants. Security. Approval. The things that make life worth living for most. Purpose, perhaps. But light without eyes, illuminates nothing. I've talked to friends, family...even saw a therapist or two. But ultimately I end up getting confused faces and trite platitudes about "self acceptance" and "finding a hobby" etc. etc. None of which address the issue at hand. If life isn't worth living, why would I want a distraction from this fact, rather than a viable reason for perpetuating the act of breathing for it's own merits? So I suppose that's why I'm here. To see what the lost, lonely, starved for attention masses have, that keeps them going. Why should we, the clearly genetically disadvantaged, keep struggling to breathe through malformed nasal passages? Why do we trudge through every day, just praying to whatever deity we haven't tried yet, for some kind of purpose reason, or meaning for the endless monotony, sorrow and pain? I for one, am running out of answers. Some background: I'm 25 years old. Male, detestably short (5'4" if we're being generous and wearing my trademark boots.) And thin as a rail. (100lbs) I have a terrible aversion to eating, only doing it because it's required. Though that in itself, is debatable. I have an uneventful job, that comprises the bulk of my uneventful life. I'm not humorous. I'm not witty. The list of my personal failures goes on. But I'll get to that later. I have very few friends, though the ones that I have are dear. Not so dear that I can be quite so open with them as I might like, but to be honest I'm not sure that even if I did have that sort of relationship that I would be so inclined to divulge such information anyways. I work, I come home, I sleep. I wake up, and the cycle begins anew. I've lost interest in video games. I read, but in a society in which "Harry Potter" and "Twilight" are all the rage, I grow weary of going into bookstores at all these days. I fancy myself an intellectual, but really I'm just stuck up. Intellectuals seek out new information. They try to learn, for the sake of learning. I just hate everything, so the illusion of intellectual superiority is all the more carefully crafted to those around me. I'm also riddled with contradictions. This is my biggest problem, and really the crux of what brings me to this forum. I genuinely go out of my way to try to be nice to people. For the most part, as much as I can. I over-think things often. Always assuming that an off-hand remark might be taken as offensive, so I end up apologizing for offenses that I never committed. Which confuses the people I'm apologizing to, to no end. I want a girlfriend, yet can't stand being around the vast majority of people so the chances of such a thing happening are slim to none. Not only that, but let's face it, 10's marry 10's and 2's marry 2's, and I'm not entirely sure I want to saddle someone else with me for however long we might last. Have I mentioned that I view relationships with abject terror due to the risk of being cheated on? Cheating is a cardinal sin in my eyes. One of very few real "morals" that I espouse. Betrayal is the "sweetest cut of all" and the most merciless. Though to be honest, having any woman leave me for someone else in any capacity would be unbearable, as it's merely confirmation of my failures, and the success of random faceless John Q public who has better abs, teeth, hair, height and personality than me. I suppose it's hard to explain. But I find myself thinking one thing, and yet doing another. Or vice verse. I often can see both sides of the argument rather well, a strong point in my personality, though one of few. However, this causes me to waffle on a good many points. I don't have many firm political views, and I find myself constantly in flux, in terms of what believe in. What I want from life. And how I view the world. When I was a child, I learned quickly that nobody wanted to be around me. So I would find the local clique who's standards were just low enough that I could talk to them without getting instantly beaten up, and adapt my personality to taste. I've become an excellent mimic. For over a year, I pretended I was an English college student. From Essex no less. (I live in the south.) I can pretend I like rap music, and hold spirited conversations with others on the topic for hours. Or I can be a good old fashioned redneck, clinging to guns god and government. I can hang with the geeks, the freaks the nerds, and the preps. Over time, I lost sight of who I am. I have no idea anymore if I even like things because I genuinely find merit in them, or if it's merely more of the facade that my entire life has become. I have molded myself into an amorphous blob of pre-hashed opinions, predictable ideology and day time catchphrases. I feel empty inside. I don't even know who I am anymore in the truest sense of the word. I do know that I don't like myself though. Even a faceless mass, can detest it's lack of identity. The worst part, is being able to acknowledge this. You know that old thing, about rockstars, starting out as just kids in a garage band, trying to look cool for the girls, and ending up filling concert stadiums, with every idiot teen girl wanting desperately to be the object they write mournful, and overly emotive anthems for. Eventually people begin to question why they keep doing it. For the music or the money. They lose sight of why they began, and ultimately fall apart and fade away. Only a select few ever get out alive. (10 points if you get the reference.) Well, I have neither the fame or fortune of rockstars, but I have absolutely zero clue who I am anymore. And to be honest, I'm not sure that if I found out, I would be any better off. When I walk near groups of people, sometimes I hear a burst of laughter just as I pull away from them. Inevitably I assume that they are laughing at something I've done, or the way I look. When I'm happiest about the way I look, that's when I seem to attract the most stares. None of them good mind you. I self consciously check myself hundreds of times on the way to my destination. Going back and forth from my zipper to my shirt which hangs over my skeletal frame, to my hair, and back down to my zipper which I'm constantly certain has plunged to the depths of hell itself, displaying in full righteous glory what can only be laughingly referred to as my "manhood." To be honest, after doing research it appears I'm hovering at average size in all dimensions, but every man I think harbors some deep seated inner fear that whatever he's packing is nowhere near enough. Real or imagined, the thought is paralyzing. I can't concentrate long enough to learn or assimilate any new information, if it doesn't capture my interest. Even video games, find my character plunging himself into the exact same situation that killed him over and over and over again, with no deviation in what is clearly a losing strategy. I get frustrated, and push forward with solutions that clearly won't work, hoping that by brute force alone, I can *make* it work, without having to devise a new stratagem. I find myself staring off into space for no reason. When I'm reading even the most engrossing novels, I stare right through the pages at times, as my mind wanders off. It makes it rather difficult to learn. I've tried medical solutions, none of which do the job. So that's me I suppose. -- Hindsight may be 20/20 but looking backwards increases the likely hood of walking into signposts: -- My outlook on life, could be described as, transient, but typically bleak. I don't believe that I'm genetically viable. I'm weak, short, plagued with allergies, poor vision and teeth. Not particularly handsome. Mostly it's the height that gets me the most. I accept that everyone has some flaw. Some more than most, and that there's typically little, if anything that can be done about it. Be it doomed, or blessed, we are who we are. The problem is, that I don't believe that I *should* be here. I'm not genetically viable. Not a very good specimen at all. I should not have been born. As said before, 10's marry 10's and 2's marry 2's. All I'll end up doing, if I procreate is cursing my progeny with the same problems that plague every moment of my existence. The species is supposed to breed up, not down. For this, and many other reasons, I've dismissed any notions of procreation. The simple fact of the matter is, that beautiful people, are happier. Make more money. Live longer lives. And are generally better off. The mutants such as myself however, are not. We are the inner workings of society. The day laborers, the ditch diggers, the ones not pretty enough to get the desk job, but rather the ones condemned to living in an ever shifting and unstable working environment. Faceless, nameless, masses. Call centers, technology careers, laundry cleaners, server techs and admins, mechanics etc. etc. etc. Some pull down a nice wage. But never get the respect of society that they're worth. Damned to drudgery. Toiling in shadows. A footnote on the annals of history. Speaking of history, did I mention that it's entirely written by winners? How many soldiers died during WW2? Lives lost for a (cruel and pointless) cause that supported by people who felt the need to intervene in the lives of others. All gone. They exist now, merely as statistics. But I use the 2nd world war as an example, because it's big, and typical. I speak however, also of the factory worker that dies in some random accident. The mother that falls down the stairs. Heart attack victims, Strokes seizures and accidents of all kinds. When we die, nothing really happens. The world shrugs, and keeps moving. Michael Jackson just died. But few are speaking about him, personally. Every time I hear another sound byte I cringe, as I imagine the dollar signs that it generated. The man exists now, merely as another spectacle. His entire life. His existence, is merely a new way to make money. When 9/11 happened, and suddenly American flags became hot commodities I truly felt physically ill whenever I saw one being sold for outrageous prices at gas stations and bus-stops. The trivialization of life bothers me, despite the triviality of life itself. (one of my many personal contradictions.) -- Strife, the universe, and everything: -- Life is meaningless. Ultimately, that's where we stand. The universe will spin forever, with or without us. I hate myself for squandering my youth. Despite hating every breath, and the problems that its perpetuation brings, I'm terribly thanataphobic. (Fear of death.) Not because I'm afraid of the "other side" (there is none.) but because I don't want to cease existing. Humans can contemplate everything but zero. We can imagine (to a point) an enternity of suffering, or pleasure. But zero? The invention of zero is actually heralded as a significant mathematical achievement. The idea amuses me. To get to the point, I never want to die, because I feel that I've squandered my youth. I'm jealous of the unborn, for all the things they will experience that I will not. Yet I'm jealous of those my age, because of all the things *they* have experienced that I have not, and will not. And the meager 70+ years that I may have ahead of me, will never be enough to experience the whole world anyways. And yet even if I did, so what? I'm terribly apathetic about it anyways. I wouldn't want to see china. 90% of the world, for that matter, I don't care about. And yet I don't want to die.... Pointlessness. I've come to the realization that jealousy hits me more than anything. I'm *jealous* of other people's potential lives, and current lives, because I know that my life sucks so much. And no manner of attempting any change will fix that. Even if I did live forever, it wouldn't change how my life goes. The metaphor is, that if I'm playing baseball, my ball is the one that will inevitably break the window. If my friends go somewhere uninteresting, and I refuse to go, then something amazing will happen, and they'll have all these great stories. If I go, it's a boring trip, that ends up in a fight. When I try to change things for the better, I fail. When I make no attempt, I fail. When I do everything and nothing, I fail. Ultimately these experiences have taught me that life is meaningless. The world will go on, and endure countless wars, plagues, pestilences, and problems. It will see births, deaths, carnivals, big screen tv's, space exploration and other advances and defeats. And none of it will *matter* in any viable manner. It's a program running a recursive loop. Nothing more, and nothing less. I pose the question: If humanity were to become extinct tomorrow....so what? What changes, what matters? What's the point? Enter: Religion, with it's shiny solution to all life's problems. (I do not believe in any god, or religion.) Yet this cannot be verified, and when faced with critical examination, becomes nothing more than wishful thinking. A hope against hope, that should the universe emit it's final death wail, that our "souls" will go off to heaven or hell, and all will be right with the universe. Because our lives will not truly "end" but change. You can notice the faint flavours of this line of thinking, even among athiests. "Death is the answer to one of life's greatest questions", and "It's the next great adventure!" and other such happy-go-lucky outlooks on what cannot ever be changed. To all those who say they do not fear death, I cry shenanigans. It's why we look both ways when we cross the street. It's why religion has survived for so long, it's why we brush our teeth, and take our medicine and vitamins. The few lucky ones that acknowledge the pointlessness of these exercises are not spared any pain, because we're still in the same boat regardless. We console ourselves when faced with death, by talking about all our "achievements" and the friends that will mourn our passing, and the "ripples our lives have made" and other such bullshit feel-good garbage that is as just as empty as the paper it's printed on. (and subsequently sold as a smart-assed inspirational poster for $19.95) Tacky. If life has purpose, and if life is really something to be saved, which is what I see so often from these "1800-suicide" hotlines and whatnot, then why do we feel the need to convince ourselves of it? What *is* our purpose? If it's nothing more than self prescribed pithy little goals, such as waking up in the morning, or dying in a mansion, then so what? Even if attained, you still die, and the world forgets you were ever here. Swallowed up like a marble in the sahara. Nihilism is often considered a great evil, yet no one has ever really proven why. They say it leads to despair, and the loss of religion, yet suicide is typically the only "problematic end-result" of these symptoms. No one has ever really proven why suicide is bad. Oh, I could grow up to be the next Einstein? That's nice. I also have the same probability of becoming Hitler too. Some people would have been better off aborted, no? Or would they? Does it matter? I hate my life, because it's empty. I hate my prospects, because even though I have none, even if I did, they would be devoid of meaning. I'm not sure what I'm looking for. And I'm not sure what I'm running from. Am I just some over-privileged American who doesn't realize how easy I've got it? Is the grass in my field a beautiful shade of green to someone in the world? Maybe even someone on these forums? And if so, does that mean a damn thing? Hmph. Just because I exist in a state better off than a starving African, does not make my *existence* any less trite. Therein lies the issue. I don't know. I'm not much for self pity. I think I just want answers. Someone elses' perspective. I don't want the usual crap. "You have value" -justify this un-justifiable statement and win a quarter. Some people are scum. If you knew me outside of the internet, who's to say what "inner value" you might attribute to some random stranger? "Life is precious" -No it's not. We kill every day without prejudice. Spiders, snakes, flies. Just because they're nuisances. Even a vegetarian diet causes the deaths of several thousand woodland creates annually, due to harvesting techniques and deforestation. Just because it's not "intentional" or direct, doesn't make it any less killing. "Potential of the future" -Blah. Potential for success and failure, only have merit if you place such merit upon them. Aside from that, either scenario is nothing more than a prelude to a cold grave, and oblivion. Look upon my works ye mighty....and go "meh."