Why It Doesn’t Make Sense To Be Afraid Of Doing Shit You Wanna Do.
Historically speaking you’re dead.
Anyone who can judge you is dead. 70 years out of 14 billion years is nothing. We are already on our way out and our fate is certain. Why not go out fighting to live the life you want to lead? It might seem pointless and absurd but you have the freedom to create your own reality and your own definition of success.
Trying mad shit and failing is worthwhile as the only people who can judge you are historically dead bastards. Including yourself.
When you’ve already lost you have the freedom to try and fail without it really mattering.
Opinions aren’t worth much.
Everyone is entitled to an unlimited amounts of opinions. If opinions are currency then you’re printing your own tender and it is therefore not worth much. Monopoly money. Opinions are jizzed into existence and protected by their creator like a hissy Goose maw on heat.
Your opinions become extensions of yourself. If people attack your opinions it feels like they are attacking you and it hurts. It just brings you more pain. If life is holding you at gunpoint your opinions are making you a bigger target to aim at.
Everyone is entitled to an opinion but very few are responsible for their opinions. Ultimately just noise. Only you can judge what you are capable of in life. Most people will be supportive of what you try to do in life unless it involves the vulnerable and nudity.
There’s nothing wrong with being viewed as a lunatic or as a freak in a fundamentally sick society where people have to drink a drug just so they can relax and be themselves for 2 hours.
Be yourself. Unless you’re a cunt.
Being yourself is meaningless too. When people say that they are asking you to do a bad impersonation of who you were yesterday. It places the focus on what you once were and not would you could be. 8 years ago I was a fat boy who couldn’t really see a pleasant future. To ‘be myself’ then would have involved being an unhappy militant atheist with a drink and kebab problem.
Your cubicle is shrinking. Your sense of self encompasses less and less by the day. Dying in a 9-5 claustrophobic hell soundtracked by Ed Sheeran. Vomiting the contents of ‘Share Size’ resealable chocolate pouches out the sides. Scrabbling desperately for the last few mls of dopamine to feel something once more other than shame and sadness.
Turn to God and He will count your shame index up like loyalty points in a supermarket. The more shame you feel for being a confused little space alien, the better you will be in his eyes.
You’re historically dead and you’re on your deathbed now. What do you choose to do?
Have a wank and a brew. YES!
I feel an urgency to live and do something with my life now without fear as I’ve already lost. As Jim Morrison wrote in one of his songs ‘No one here gets out alive, unless you’re a bit of a cunt”