Well, I’ll be honest with you – we let you down this year. No new theme, no new logo, very few of the posts I promised and, worst of all, our live-streaming plans were not very well planned.
However, I will now be doing a write-up about fear, and what I, as a modern-day human male that thinks he understands just how fucked he is, politically, financially and morally. Enjoy!
I am a man. I am. I have a penis, rather than a vagina, and am currently at an age higher than that which changes the word which defines you. I am a man. But, despite being a man, I get scared. In fact, I’d say that because I’m a man, I get scared. Now, the boogeyman isn’t a concern of mine, nor is Slenderman, for that matter, but the simple horrors of life are.
What do I know about life? Well, I know that for the most part, it is not random, but rather, the result of actions that you make, your associates make, and the rest of the people on the god-damn planet makes. Now, don’t get me wrong – If Steve in India buys a new car, that doesn’t affect me one bit, not really, but if Steve buying a car means his friend decides to steal his old one, and buys a gun, just in case, and then he ends up using it, kill Steve and setting off a gas-main, killing a few dozen people, you can guarantee I’m going to hear about it. That’s an extreme example with a minimal effect on my life, but it’s their.
We are living in an age where, no matter what you do or where you are, your life is pretty much controlled by the people around you. I can live anywhere I want, with anyone I want, and if the people in charge of my country decide to make me do something, I have to play ball. That scares me. The fact that people I haven’t even said can tell me what to do, can tell me what to do.
Even worse, is that there are people out there, leaders of other countries, terrorists, the people who own the shops and the fuel companies – they all have a control over my life that I don’t have. They can effectively kill me, not by stabbing or shooting me, but by removing the finances I need to ensure my survival, or by straight up killing me.
I’m not scared of dying. I figure, heck, I’m a Free-Ist. I’ll go to wherever I want to go. Hell would be interesting. Regardless, dying doesn’t scare me. I fear the fact that I am, one day, going to die, and no matter what I do, everyone I know and a few billion people I don’t have all led me to that single moment – the one where the life finally slips from my body, and here’s nothing me, you or Dupree can do about it.
I also fear finding out I have some sort of debilitating illness, or that there’s something wrong with me, which will mean I can’t have kids, or that I’ve got so long left to live. I don’t want to know when I’m dying. There’s too much pressure and hope attached.
Plus, the ice-pick-headaches are already getting a bit old, and I only really noticed that they were a problem on Monday morning at about 1am. Imagine a situation where, for about 10-15 seconds, you feel a sharp pain in your head, which disappears as suddenly as it came, and can happen at any time, on any day, and, so far, has happened more than once a day, every day this week. Today, I had one on the way to work, Five whilst there and Two since I got home. But heck, who cares, right? I completed GTA!
Life sucks, and no matter what we do, we will all die, we’ll have shitty stuff happen to us, and the people we care about will leave us. There’s always bad news around the corner and we need to accept that instead of fearing it. Why do I hate going out, particularly on Halloween? Because you just don’t know who it is behind the mask. I’m afraid to find out.
That Guy, Once Again About To Go And Play A Game To Hide From The Horrors Of Real Life. Wish Me Luck, And Don’t Come After Me…