What is the Point?

What is the point?  I find myself asking myself this question constantly. It almost burns each word into my brain like the cast iron used to brand cattle animals. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been brain washed into thinking about the expectations of what being a living human being on this god forsaken charade of a planet we call Earth is really all about, even though living up to those expectations only makes you feel like you’re trying to walk up a slide with constant lube running down it.

I’m 29 years old. I have done most of the things strangers ask you when they start up a meaningless conversation starter. Relationship? Yes. Investment? Yes. Travel? Yes a bit. Children? Fuck no (for now). And I will get to that another time. But all of these questions, compiled with the overwhelming pictures and status updates that is the latest form of communication and relationship barriers that we are currently experiencing as a species, creates an expectation of the meaning of life and happiness. Not on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat? But how the hell are people going to see how incredibly happy you are? I am not writing this because I have a problem with social media. I don’t have a problem with social media. If you’re thinking that, you’ve already missed the point.

I have done and achieved most things normal people would consider good milestones in life. When people ask, and I tell them my story, they stare at me like I have my shit together and almost like I planned my whole life out meticulously. Like I employed some remarkable decision making skills and avoided disaster my whole life. But then where are all my Facebook and Instagram photos? Why haven’t I shown the world how happy I am?

Because all of it is fucking bullshit. That’s the bottom line really. You strive your whole life to reach an expectation that you are constantly fed from childhood that if you finally do these things, you will be happy and lead a well-fulfilled life. But each time you do any of those things and you don’t find yourself feeling that accomplished happy feeling for very long. You’re left wondering why. And then it starts. The anxiety from not feeling that happy fulfillment feeling for long even though you’re doing everything you’re being told to. You’re left wondering why, so you do more, and you still don’t feel it lasts, and then the anxiety gets worse.

So you find distractions instead. You party more. Find hobbies. Go to the gym, because people with abs of steel are happy. Trust me, Instagram told me. Years pass and you’re getting older and you start to feel the clock ticking. You don’t believe in heaven or hell so you know you’re not going anywhere fun after this life. Shit, is this my only chance to find happiness in my one and only life? This is the part where you’re so tired from being anxious about not being happy, that you physically and mentally don’t have enough psychological strength to contemplate the shear realisation that you will never be satisfied enough to lead a happy life. You don’t know why, you don’t know what you’re doing wrong, you just feel sad now.

Years pass again and you find yourself looking for anything that will bring you a small amount of happiness so you don’t completely lose faith that you’re dead on the inside and will never feel any positive emotion again. Sex, drugs and alcohol. Very rock n roll. And maybe that explains why musicians and various forms of artists or actors are permanently unsatisfied and find themselves resorting to drugs and alcohol to help them forget their undeniable dissatisfaction with what they call their lives or work.

And where does all this dissatisfaction lead you? You look at those around you and know the ones who are posting on Facebook and Instagram are only posting the positive parts of their miserable lives for everyone to witness, others are so severely small minded and simple to even contemplate the purpose of life and therefore are happy living their simple and boring lives, and besides the others like you, everyone else has either blown their brains out to quit this ongoing charade we call life or do stupid acts and die anyways. So once again, I ask you, what is the fucking point??

And here it is. You have incredibly high expectations of happiness and feelings of fulfillment that will never, and can never be achieved. In order for you to live a happy life, you literally will have to lower your standards on what it means to feel happy. Wow. That changes a lot of things.

The more you buy, will not make you happy.

The more trust, reliance and expectations of every single relationship around you, will only let you down and disappoint you.

The more you think doing things like traveling, having kids, getting a promotion or new job, will not make you happy.

Absolutely every single one of those things is a mere form of a distraction or projection of your need for happiness. If I look and do things that other people think I am happy, I must be happy. What lost souls we are.

I wake up every morning thinking about the next 15 hours I have to amuse myself with the various distractions around me to get me through the rest of the day before I can come home and feel any sense of relief from being outside surrounded by the constant reminders of what this planet has become. Lost empty shells that resemble human beings, telling lies and living shallow meaningless excuses of what they call their happy lives by perpetuating a vicious cycle  of Instagram posts and Facebook likes in order to feel any form of connection with everyone around them. All the while, the more and more alone we become.