We are all bleeding hours from our birth wound. As a combat medic friend of mine said, "All bleeding stops eventually."
Sometimes, all you can make of life is an exercise in endurance. In exchange for losing something you can never get back, you get only the capacity for more pointless suffering. You can hope that you will get the opportunity to improve things, to feel the fleeting joy that makes it all worthy, for a moment, but there it is - and gone in an instant. And you missed it. Again.
It is, I think, unimpeachably true that life is more suffering and boredom than joy, and that we are unfortunate to have ever come to consciousness. When I am at my best, I can see that the challenge raised by that fact is that we must revolt against it, no matter how pointless writhing in the grip of reality might be. Life is meaningless, so we give it meaning. Life is more sorrow than joy? We create joy, and art, and beauty in a glorious rage against the great darkness.
In short, yes, life is unfortunate, but we're here, together, so we may as well make something of it.
We don't just choose to die because that would be granting the meaninglessness of life its ultimate victory. We live for beauty, we live for spite. Let death take its victory when it will. We will not yield meekly.
Entropy is Imperial. It rules almost everywhere. Meaningless, endless, eternal. How gloriously brave, then, of these little sparks of consciousness in the vast, all-conquering dark to defy their inevitable doom.
How dare we be beautiful?
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See! Another life raft, something else to ponder. Brain food.
I absolutely needed to read this today.
You reminded me why I exist and keep doing what I must to move joyfully (whenever possible) forward.
Please have the excellent day you deserve