Yes, I think. I am here. They are here. Their presence bothers me because it seems to deny mine. But all of us are here. Laughing. Crying. Waiting. Hoping. Dancing. Writing. Complaining. Being happy. Being unhappy.Working. Resting. Using our brains. Not using our brains. All of them trying to reach out to…what? To something, to anything. All of them need to reach out to something, or they would go insane. And I? O you nihilist don’t need to reach out to anything. There is no difference between being dead and alive to you!! So they say, so they think.
I know an absolute truth :
[size=200]
I am alive.[/size]
That means, I am surely not dead. I have never known any other situation, but life. I will never know any situation, but life. I will never know any other world, but this one. And I don’t have to complain about it. No irony. I haven’t any reasons to be ironic. No more. Not believing in anything, among all the things men try to believe in (myth, religion, science, philosophy,art), I can be sincere all the time. I have no particular reason to tell a lie, neither in my name nor in name of some “belief” of mine. And I haven’t surely a particular reason to go on…Strange. I look at them (people) from my window. Some seem to be saying: “Jump! Jump from there guy! You have nothing to lose!”. Some seem to be saying: “Don’t jump! Don’t do such a thing! You are very, very young (twenty-three). You have a lot of reasons to live!” They are absolutely convinced that their advice can help me. They are absolutely right that any of us can find a reason to go on living. In fact, most don’t. What I see is that men never have a reason to live, they are always searching for a reason, always, untill the end. At that point, all men are equal: all searching for a purpose, a meaning, a reason to bear taedium vitae, bore, sadness, loneliness, depression, prejudice…At that point, atheism is no longer a wiser option that theism or deism. A man who says that the meaning of his life is hedonism, or pantheism, or darwinism is not very different from a man who says that the meaning of his life is theism. Because all of us (I mean all of us) always find reasons to justify our beliefs. All of us always find our beliefs the beliefs which are right. All of us think it is pretty fair to tell our fellow men that they are wrong thinking the way they feel. And maybe we are wronger than them. Maybe we know the truth and they don’t. Or maybe no. Who knows? Do you know? Of course not.
So, I woke up this morning as I have done a lot of times before. O yeah, my mother seems to be sick. That makes me remember another absolute truth:
[size=200]I will die sooner or later.[/size]
How? Suicide? I think it is excessively obvious, all people think I am about to commit suicide, so why have I to do that? Disease? Age? KIlling? Don’t know for sure. And don’t want to know, believe me. Because the fact that I am alive is much more interesting that the fact that I will die. I am still alive and ought to count myself lucky for that. Indeed? Why? Do I hope to find a meaning? Do I hope to live eternally (go to Jesus’ Heaven?) Do I hope to find happiness? Of course not. So, [size=150]why?[/size] I look at my mother, I am so profoundly afraid of losing here. The pain will be enough, I am sure. I look at the faces of street people. I look at the cover of a book about Any Frank. And suddenly, there is no meaning but there is something which I can’t explain. I think of KIrkegaard, that lovely and depressive guy, I think of Thomas Bernhard, fighting till the end, feeling happy for waking up every morning. And I think of me. “No excuses, Fabiano. You are young but your soul is old. You are already dead!” The ones who think that way couldn’t be wronger. I don’t have an old soul, my soul is young, is fresh, is alive. And I am not dead. If I don’t kill myself immediately, it is not because I love life and hope to find a meaning to live it. It is because of something which I can’t explain. Thomas Berhard didn’t have a reason to live, he didn’t love life profoundly. But he never gave life up. Never. My mother won’t give her life up untill the end. Why would I do that? O yeah, I know that I live in a sick world. But who is to say me that I have the right to give this fucking world up?
Thank you for the attention.
Best regards.