I have developed an interest in darkness. The eternal questions of why suffering exists and what happens when we die have always plagued my thoughts since I could comprehend such questions to any meaningful depth. A fear has grown within me that sort of just floats in the back of my mind — why bother? Why bother with all this suffering and pain and sadness in this life if I will ultimately wind up in a hole in the ground or thrown to the wind in a myriad of specks just like everybody else? Why go through the ups and downs of daily life? Why stick around to see people I love grow old and diseased and eventually perish?
But that’s just it — there are people we love, obligations to fill, jobs to do, experiences to live. How could anyone throw that all away? Well I guess that’s the conundrum that has pestered me for so long. I can’t say I’d rather not have these things because they are all I know. As a person who does not believe in a god or a heaven (at least from what I have experienced and observed), I do not know what lies beyond death. I cannot throw this life away because I fear the nothingness and unknown of death.
So I tease these thoughts. I’ve become a fan of dark films and musical styles. Nothing quite sticks with me more than someone screaming about hardships, of which I’ve had very few relatively speaking to some of the horrid things that this world, and humanity, is capable of producing. Something about that gloomy, depressed thought process gets me thinking. It allows me to vent my own anger, fear, and frustration.
I am constantly thought of as an unemotional robot of a person with a dark sense of humor and a lack of feelings. My dark thoughts have mixed with my calm, logical personality to form what often comes off as a harsh or uncaring exterior. When others perceive me this way, it only strengthens the thoughts that tell me to just forget about caring. If people think I don’t care, why not indulge them? My fascination with death grows, and I wind up just hating myself for being the way I am and simultaneously get mad at myself for thinking that way. It’s a confusing process, and I end up getting pretty down on myself due to the sum of pressures from how I am perceived, how I want to be perceived, and how I perceive myself.
In the end I guess the unknown is the unknown, and I will simply have to accept that I cannot have full control over my life and death. Though I tease these dark thoughts, I continue to push back. Though these words like “robotic” and “unfeeling” tease me, I continue to move along. Though I feel like there will be no end to this, I like to fall back on one of my favorite song lyrics to have some light amidst the darkness of my mind:
“So when you feel your heart sink into your chest don’t forget everything is okay in the end. We are not okay, but this is not the end yet.”
(The Color Morale – “Strange Comfort”)