The Devil All the Time

9

An irrefutable fact of my life has always been that humans could be better if they truly attempted to be. That does not come from a place of maliciousness, nor arrogance. I could even be better if I attempted to, but like so many other humans; I'm tired of fucking trying. Everyday we get up, just to work for someone or something that does not give a singular fuck about us. For a single moment each day I think about what may or may not come at the end of this repeating process. Sometimes, I wonder what the hell I am doing here. More times than naught actually, I wonder what my purpose here is. There is no use in thinking of it though, it won't solve the problem. I am no permanent god, neither am I fate nor collective consciousness. I will never know, and even if I knew the collective consciousness of all humans, we still would have no damn clue. Just a gut feeling leading us to be, think, dance, draw, sing, fuck, break down in our own ways.

What if you haven't gotten that feeling, what if you never get that feeling? Or even worse... what if you have that feeling and never get to act on it. We are constantly trapped and threatened by the ever pressing foot of our expenses, expectations, and ailments. To die alone or to die unfulfilled, isn't that what we are all so scared of death for. Besides that great unknown of what comes after, our fears revolve around things that would easily be solvable if humans weren't all such massive asshats. And back to the nature of humans we go. Is our nature naturally cruel. I feel like it isn't quite cruel, but it is intrinsically hedonistic. There has always been, and will always be an inner push to be completely and utterly happy. Even at the cost of others.

Even people who tend to help people are doing it for their own selfish reasons. Their need for being needed gives them a joy that other things in life just seem to lack. They help someone because it helps them feel something. It makes them someone important. That brings them joy. To simply be needed and loved, no matter how much they are abused in the end. Even if they recognize how much that abuse hurts them, that rush of happiness crashes and covers the pain for just a moment, and that hurt grows. Then they need more and more until they ruin themselves. Until saying no is their own personal sin. Until the crashing waves no longer cover that pain, and they reach a threshold that they simply cannot drown. It's an addiction. It's that simple rush of dopamine at the very end of sex, and that feeling of exhaustion and shame afterwards.