I have made peace with my life. I am content. For all the horrors I’ve experienced and the some good stuff, I have learned to accept my life for what it is. I am detatched. I have no real goals anymore. Nothing I hope to accomplish besides peace, pleasure, and survival.
This is not to say I am sewerslidal. I fully intend to live out my days as long as they remain. But I do not care how soon or far that is. Tomorrow would be fine. 60 years from now would be fine. I am ready to get off the ride whenever. I have seen enough.
I don’t know if there is an afterlife. I don’t know if there is reincarnation. I don’t really care. I am prepared for whatever is next, and I don’t particularly care how soon it is.
Was my life horrible? Objectively? Yeah, in some ways, sure. But not all bad. It is what it is.
I am actually kind of glad that I wasn’t better with women. That I didn’t marry young and reproduce before I realized how much this world sucks. I endured it, but I am glad I didn’t subject any offspring to this planet. Now I am old enough to know better. I did not have the chance to reproduce when I was young and dumb and the world made sense. Now I will ensure I never reproduce even if I can.
Maybe asceticism is cope for losers, but I don’t care. I’ve experienced all I care to experience. I have no more regrets. Whatever happened happened. Whatever will happen will happen.
Fuck it, we ball.
