Paradise exists only in your head. It is a placebo invented by the psyche to make misery more palatable, to make it easier to get out of bed and go to work, mindlessly go through the motions, come home and eat tasteless food, then repeat ad nauseam.
Paradise exists only in your head. There is no fabled land where all your problems melt away and life is nothing but bliss and rainbows. There is no such thing as eternal happiness, just as there is such thing as eternal misery. Contradictory in an unfavorable way, yes, but undeniable.
For those who seek paradise, misery is inevitable. There is nothing along that road except disappointment, loss, and nihilism. Sacrifice your paradise. Give it up to live what you can now; don’t chase something that doesn’t exist; don’t waste your limited time--always ticking down.
Paradise only exists in your head--in the heads of those around you also. It’s a concept invented to justify suffering now. Nothing more than a way we trick ourselves into thinking misery will be worth it in the end. But is it?
When misery becomes your normal, when all you feel is the sucking weight and emptiness, it becomes a fastidious task to remember others aren’t the same way. And some aren’t. But it feels like it’s just you in that moment. Misery becomes a forgettable invisible weight, almost like wearing a bag filled with rocks. The first, the second, the third days it’s heavy. The hundredth, two hundredth, the three hundredth days it’s light. You’ve become accustomed to the weight to such a point that it may as well not be there. But misery differs from strength: training your strength has gains, carrying misery has none. Only wasted time, your wasted time and the onus of inevitable death that carries.
Paradise only exists in your head. It’s a sacrifice we make unknowingly, willingly giving up aspiration for one day over the horizon when we may taste fabled waters. But I say justifying misery now for imagined waters is imbecilic. There’s no reason to justify misery, now or ever. So why is it so easy to be miserable?
Why is it my normal?
Why is it that others can find happiness while I wither away my youth, while I stagnate in the putrid waters of my own head, wishing for anything else but doing nothing for it?
Paradise only exists in my head. I’ve convinced myself so thoroughly of this that it’s my reality. There is no fabled waters to taste, no happiness to find. I am determined to be miserable because it’s what I know--it’s what I expect--and it’s because I don’t deserve happiness like others do. I’ve convinced myself that I deserve misery for fantasy sins.
Paradise exists, but until misery isn’t my normal, I can’t believe in it. It’s too sweet, too different than the numbing waters I drown myself in, to palate. So bon voyage, glorious bastards, here’s to sailing that dark sea where the only light is self toxicity towards a destination I’ve set unashamedly: misery.
Styles Yugen, signing off.