
sunnysidedown
should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?
- Jun 28, 2023
- 28
When I look at myself— my actions, my thoughts, my feelings— I realize that I am simply a collection of cells and chemical reactions driven by genetics and my environment. From conception as a fertilized egg, all the way to asystole, I have never and will never be in control. The thoughts consuming my head are only a result of my upbringing, my life experience, my physiology— none of which are decided by myself. Everything which makes up "me" is a series of decisions that I am not a part of. There is no free will. What I am is unchangeable, and what I will be is predetermined. My thinking process heavily relies on the fact that I don't believe in souls, or at least, my own soul. I look into the mirror, staring at my eyes, and I see and feel only an empty abyss. If eyes are windows to the soul, I fear that my house is abandoned. What remains is the shell of a puppet chained to chaotic fate. I feel— I know, even, my very own consciousness— is not my own. It's a collection of nucleotides, of cortisol and neurons, of action potentials and ions. It's a snapshot of all the love and hate in the world, of empathy entwined with greed, of hedonism that leads to agony, of raw human nature. It's the inevitable march of time, pushing me forward when all I want is to be left behind. My thoughts aren't my own, but instead are an amalgamation of others'. And now, after reading this, my thoughts are a part of your's as well.
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A toast, to self-identity.
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A toast, to self-identity.
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