Læs dagbog

Hvorfor er du så trist?

En side i dagbogen "Tomhed"
Skrevet af IntetLiv 31. januar 2017 03:58

En kvinde skrev og spurgte mig om hvorfor jeg er trist.


Jeg ved ikke hvad hun egentlig lagde i det spørgsmål, for hun er ikke typen som spørger om sådan noget uden at der ligger en overvejelse bag.

Måske var det blot for at give mig lidt frihed til at udtrykke mig. Uanset valgte jeg at hun fortjente et svar. Jeg åbnede et skriveprogram, og prøvede først at opdele forklaringen i 3 grove kategorier om lige den dag.

1) Verdensopfattelse, og hvordan virkeligheden og omgivelserne gør livet til en ren skuffelse.
2) Mennesker, og hvordan andres fremmedgørelse og ekskludering af min person, spiller ind ud fra misforståelser og frygt.
3) Mig, og hvad mit selvhad, magtesløshed og forsømmelse medfører.

Derefter forklarede jeg lidt mere om hvad de hver især drejede sig om, men efter bare de første hurtige 1166 ord der overfladisk skulle dække de 2 første kategorier, gik det op for mig hvor svært det ville blive at besvare det korte spørgsmål.


Så jeg svarede tilbage at jeg kunne skrive en bog om min tristhed. At hun måtte vente lidt på det. Jeg tænker umiddelbart bare en e-bog. Den koster ikke noget at producere, og skønt ingen får noget ud af at læse den, kan jeg stadig udgive den gratis. Der er ingen egentlig grund til overhovedet at skrive den, men jeg ser det langt vigtigere at der ingen grund er til at lade være heller.

Alt forgrenede sig. Allerede i første sætning af verdensopfattelsen dukkede flere emner op. Hvorfor vi overhovedet er. Tomhed og tilfældighed. Religiøst dække og mit eget forsøg på at danne en mere meningsfuld tilværelse ved at ændre hvordan jeg så på den, i sig selv et dække over en sandhed jeg desværre kender alt for godt. Hvordan livets usandsynlige odds dog på ingen måde giver det værdi. At alt ophører til sidst. Tidsbyrden kontra paradokset om at nuet intet er uden det før og det efter, og at det eneste der er lige nu allerede er sket. Du prøver at forstå det ud fra dine minder - de sanser, følelser og tanker fra før... men minder ændrer sig over tid og ingen kan opleve det du oplever. Du er i sandhed alene. Og hvad kan du bruge de oplevelser til? Intet.

Og det fortsætter kun... hvordan jeg betvivler andres smil og latter, mens de fortæller mig at jeg ikke skal spekulere. Min kroniske eksistentielle krise består. Uanset om det er sindsyge - selvsøgt eller foræret.
Min nylige rejse i den spirituelle verden har kun afkræftet min ånd. Hjerteløs anklager jeg min egen skygge, fanget i mit snævre spejlkabinet, den eneste kisteformede lille verden jeg kender.

"Emptiness is all there is. I am an empty noone in a world I doubt is even real. That is my true dellusion. Hope shatters. I understand that my "sentients" "incarnation" here is a conclusion. All I ever needed to learn was that all knowledge and experince is futile. I am to die knowing that I have lived in vain. Exhaling my last breath as a sigh of indifference to my own traversal through the nothingness of thought, senses, relations and any other lies I've ever valued."


I menneskeopfattelsen nåede jeg at skrive lidt om, hvordan det som menneske at afsky menneskeheden og alt ved den aldrig kan give andet end fortvivlelse og total opgivelse. Fordi den fælles indsats om den fortsatte katastrofe for miljø og alt omkring os ved teknologiske tiltag for at højne vor ego, et ubegribelig indviklet spil vi dagligt narrer os selv med, ud fra en fejlagtig idé om at det bringer noget godt med sig eller ændrer på noget. Jeg spekulerer over om vi gør det fordi vi alle er fortvivlede? Og om alt skaden, hadet, magtmisbruget, løgnene, undertrykkelsen, voldtægten, alle de gemte gerninger i virkeligheden er fordi fortvivlelsen mærkes værre? Vi tør ikke opgive, så vi skaber løgne for at klare tilværelsen.

"I have needs. Needs that I hate. But still. I cannot function due to a lack of nurishment. If I reach out I am pushed away or ignored. So of course I get sad. Any unfulfilled basic need is saddening. I don't even fulfill the needs I can provide myself. I am utterly sad. Fatigued. Flat. I barely am alive in my head. I just don't bother take notice."


Alt i alt forklarer dette jo kun at jeg ER trist, og ikke hvorfor. Men det er det mest fyldestgørende svar jeg nogensinde vil kunne give. Grunden til at jeg er trist, er at jeg er trist. Og hvad det indebærer forklarer jeg gerne.

Jeg er stadig usikker omkring hvordan min bog skal struktureres, da jeg hverken har erfaring eller nogen til at hjælpe. Jeg kunne lave et opslagsværk over emner som jeg er trist over. Allerede er jeg startet på at beskrive diverse emner samlet i en mappe. Denne tilgang, der bærer lidt karakter af en kunstbog i mine øjne, vil helt sikkert ikke opfordre nogen til at læse den, da den hverken direkte sætter emnerne i relation til hinanden, eller lover nogen konklusion på sidste side, da sidste side vil lige alle de andre, og derved afspejle størstedelen af min opfattelse af alt.
Jeg kunne jo også give bogen en dimension af tid, nærmest en selvbiografisk fortælling, om en verden der mister lidt mere af sin betydning for mig år for år, og hvordan det altsammen har ledt op til at jeg snart har opgivet andre mennesker helt.

Jeg har nok at se til. Emnerne om det triste har ingen ende.


trøstespisning, dating, håb, ensomhed, integritet, havet, relationer, tid, virkelighed, liv, skæbnen, gud, universet, metaverset, atomer, spiraler, illusioner, løgne, selvindbildning, medier, dagligdag, snæversyn, piller, folkesygdomme, reproduktion, fordomme, flygtningelejre, hykleri, pris, værdi, kapitalisme, demokrati, popkultur, marginalisering, ekskludering, slaveri, industri, kød, udtryk, kunst, køn, tal, tale, tien, tristhed i sig selv, krig, fattigdom, polarisering, reklamer, privatlivet, krænkelse, alderdom, ungdom, monogami, polyamorøsitet, fest, ferie, uddannelsespres, misbrug, selvmord, oprustning, våben, svigt, fortiden, fremtiden, nutiden, utidighed, tidsnød, tidsfordriv, tryghed, kaos, forandring, stagnering, vaner, tradition, patrionisme, danskhed, monarki, filosofi, sindet, hulhed, overflade, tomhed, afgrund, dyb, uendelighed, mørke, udtværet farveløshed, ligegyldighed, meningsløshed, indifference, neutralitet, værdiløshed, opløsning, tomdrift, formålsløshed ...


Hvis bare jeg skriver så kan det måske forklare sig selv til sidst.

Kommentarer fra andre brugere

Fint nok men hvad mener du med alt det det du skriver hvad er poenten

Skrevet af britte, 1. februar 2017 20:39

So why am I sad?


I gave it some thought, and believe my current sadness can be split into three parts.
#1 I feel unfulfilled/uncontent/dissapointed in life. (World perception)
#2 --||-- alienated/excluded/misunderstood. (Social perception)
#3 --||-- unnurtured/unattractive/useless. (Self perception)

I can't help but identify with what I am not.
Allow me to go into each in excessive detail.


- #1 World -

The 'why am I?'. I am not religious. Until recently I had a strong sense of being in a void world. That everything exists out of coincidence. Something happened. Our universe came to be as a random anomalogy and will cease to be equally randomly. A vast span of nothingness, the temporary planet, nature, body we reside is only significant in that it is rare. Life is no gift although very rare. Life - a chance to be alive for the sake of nothing until it, like all things known, ends.
So what is this life offering, sensing the inbetween, besides filling our minds with memories of doing things over and over? Naught. And this saddens me a great deal. I fail completely in comprehending why anyone can feel happy. Ever. There are times when I even suspect it is false pretense, every smile evey laugh I see in others. To a point of utter indifference. The burden of time. The burden of life and the incompetence of ending it due to some embedded survival instinct. In a world so random, one wonders what horrors the next roll of dice might present. One gets fearful in lonely prison of thought. About the one 'why'.
Recently though, I've been exploring spirituality. The 'there is no why, there simply is'. 'I am because that is what I am and so be it'. I can't decide if subtracting the significance of a lacking purpose, thus leaving the world even emptier, somehow helps. Usually a double negation cancels itself out. So instead of pointless nothingness there is merely nothingness. Thinking about that makes my emotion go numb. I feel propautious and fake. I want to believe in something else, change a fundamental understanding of creation. All. Not out of doubt but out of frustration, and a wish for a more fulfilling life. I'm not sure if this can be done while all I sense is spacious nothingness to no end.

People will always tell me to speculate less. To stop this mistreatment of myself.
They tell me that I'm just depressed/delusional/psychotic/whatever.
My chronic existential crisis remain.
This is my essence. This is me. The purest me that exists.
I can try to stop thinking about it. Force happiness. But that doesn't solve it. I need more. Than nothing. Anything. I'm desperate for it.
I have been so obsessed with these thoughts lately. Thougts that I remembered, sought out, and returned to, as will happen again, inevitably.

Spiritual people will value love, carma, journey, progress, greater good. Maybe I'm just not spiritual. Without spirit. As I don't believe in any of these things. Not when reaching inside my heart. Deep inside I don't even feel. Regardless if I'm supposed to or not. I can't. I'm bleak, substanceless, hollow. Heartless. I feel this might be why I didn't want people close to me earlier in my life. I remember just sitting motionless to no end staring straight no feelings only worry. When someone did show her love to me I wanted it. Strongly. Recently I furiously accused her of being an empty shell of a person. Yelling at her for what pain she caused me for so many years. But now I realize I was yelling at my own reflection. It is I who am an empty shell. Contentless. That is how I felt. By leaving me she taught me my insignificance. I finally understood why I felt empty. And do now. Alone again. Emptiness is all there is. I am an empty noone in a world I doubt is even real. That is my true dellusion. Hope shatters. I understand that my "sentients" "incarnation" here is a conclusion. All I ever needed to learn was that all knowledge and experince is futile. I am to die knowing that I have lived in vain. Exhaling my last breath as a sigh of indifference to my own traversal through the nothingness of thought, senses, relations and any other lies I've ever valued.



- #2 Social -

I am a spare piece of the puzzle of humanity. I do not value human traits. I hold disgust to being considered human. I am not man nor woman. As I am not meant for this or any world. Humanity taught me to see the randomness of everything. No human is crafted. Nothing is. Humanity is unpredictable and as no humans are the same they have to adapt. Accept famine, greed, egoistic self centeredness, utter carelessness to one another wether aware or not. Accept evil in everyday life. Masquaraded by a false shared sense of safety we use to cope. All while survival of the egoistic rule. Injustice, death, rape, destruction, all forgotten. Sinking further into a dark sea. Relying on technology to advance, destroying the earth in the progress, advancing nowhere, though. All lies and greed.

I lack a fundamental understanding of mankind. Excrusiatingly puzzling. And I feel I am met with the same wonder. They wonder what is wrong with me. They try to fit me in by force feeding me chemicals (medz), until I am succesfully sedated and a burden no more. I have no equal. I am one of a kind. Entirely alone. And refusing to compromise who that is these past months has been met negatively. It is unwanted that I accept myself. I hurt people with my openness and refusal to fall back in line.
It feels very unnatural for me to fit into social dogma. Why is it wrong for me to be total in who and what I am always? Why am I expected to talk, move, dress and feel in a certain way. I sense that my majority is always unwanted wherever I am. I must be the masculine me, the happy me, the artistic me or the caring me alone, and never simply me. That wont work, people only want what they can use.

That's what I revolt against. And the reason for my loneliness too probably. Noone can handle me so they back off. I exhaust people. I am demanding. Needy. It seems.

I have needs. Needs that I hate. But still. I cannot function due to a lack of nurishment. If I reach out I am pushed away or ignored. So of course I get sad. Any unfulfilled basic need is saddening. I don't even fulfill the needs I can provide myself. I am utterly sad. Fatigued. Flat. I barely am alive in my head. I just don't bother take notice.



- #3 Self -



Skrevet af IntetLiv, 10. juni 2017 14:18