The universe has no center despite all ego, but when and where is your perspective is when and where you reflect it, you the non-player character to a slumbering creator’s fancy. But if all the world’s a stage, then all the world is what supports us in this interactive theater, our memories and dreams and nightmares and histories, and horn-doggerel both private and general. It’s all the same blink of the biggest black hole winking back to its reflection. If god is a verb, a motion, then all of humanity past and present and what remains of future is a single gesture, its climactic finale of pleasure and pain letting go, leaving examples of itself everywhere and every which way but especially in the darkest of places.
Freedom should really be reframed as self-control, because elsewise everyone sees it as free license to have their private dreams come true no matter the costs inflicted upon the world around them. People hate consequences leagues more than evil. People vote because they’d prefer to indulge daddy complexes than engage problem-solving within their own lives. They know more need help than not, but would rather delegate that virtue onto others to avoid any perceived discomfort. Everyone’s terrified of what freedom entails. Half a million words at my site, and not once do I make the argument anyone deserves more than you. But nobody deserves less. All it takes for democracy to be self-sustaining is responsibility, yet everyone insanely sees esteem as being more vital for survival. If your esteem, your freedoms or your superiority depends on others suffering lesser resources and opportunities than yourself, you are not self-dependent. You are not free. Privilege is pacification. Inherently feeble.
And absolutely nothing in all of time and space is so subjective as love.
The world is not fucked because of evil conspiracies, it’s fucked because everyone feels they deserve to be entertained and loved more than others deserve safe passage. The bigger the ego the more the harm wrought, but even your very own causes more trouble than it’s worth. No problem is actually born for you from my saying your favorite brands, your political parties and your church are all useless cunts. Your problems come from you giving your self-control away to people, places and things that understand how replaceable you are as a commodity.
It’s never honestly the persons who cannot or will not love you who make your life a living hell day by day. Problems are manufactured whole cloth by those insisting love is ever a thing to be owed. And when you’re the one doing it you’re the one causing issues, for others or yourself. Whatever I myself have survived or accomplished in this life was done without your esteem or your love, so maybe neither your esteem or your love is as important as you wish it to be. Mine certainly are not. Throughout my lifetime I have never created a problem for you by any stretch of the imagination. But considering what your ego indulges of itself in appeasement to bigger egos of church and state and industry, you create problems for me. I’ve never been lazy enough to vote or pray for others to resolve my problems or ease my comforts, because in the service of life itself mine is spent cleaning after the entitled short-comings god and country necessitate among all those around me, whether scrubbing their toilets or proofing their fictions or burying their dead. I do not want love from anybody or anything and I do not need love from anybody or anything, which makes me at once more free and more dangerous than anyone I have ever known, this self-control making no demands of others. I am not advancing myself at risk to others, and I advance no preferred ego, as folly’s place is to arrive without need of pursuing it.
With what remains of my life I will be helpful for those around me with lesser resources and opportunities than myself whenever and wherever I am able, but I’m not doing anything to prolong my life and I am sure as hell not feeding anyone’s fantasies. I believe the miserable reality is that the best of us just fade away into nothing. Places can feel their burn so strongly, grooves left in an LP, and echoes carry on long after they go. Or long before they arrive. No past or future when we die, those measures of nothing. I’ve been ready for death all my life. Fearing it is fearing nothing. It’s easier when we are made ghosts while still alive, forgotten by those around us, forgotten by ourselves. And all of this is well worth forgetting, these burdens of desirable freedoms discontinuing life for all.