An idea about a potential antinatalist post came to me in a dream last night. I forgot all about it.
I feel like something of a coward for never really revealing to all of you the ins and outs of my life, as this is partly, more than 50% if the stats are anything to go by, a mental health blog. But there are reasons for not telling you anything but the bare bones of my rather colorful (various shades of gray) life. One is the coward part - I'm pretty embarrassed about a lot of my life, generally because by society's standards, I should be. Now while I am generally not inclined to follow such arbitrary standards, my feeble yet effective emotions force me to not post things on this blog that would betray my true inner core of nothingness and pettiness. I can describe objectively how I am definitely that sort of person, but, heaven forbid I'd ever reveal to you my actual scattered thoughts that lead me to describe myself in this way. Newsflash, if I haven't warned you enough about my dastardly chameleon ways*, the style of writing here is not how I actually think, or how my internal monologue goes. I am writing for an audience here, and doing anything else (at the current time) would make me feel as if my abdomen were being slowly ripped open with each new word typed. But maybe in the future, I'll create a new blog for any of those interested, and type as who I really am, as opposed to this character, estnihil, that I have created**.
Another reason is that I am deathly scared of anyone I know finding this blog - my friends would not particularly care and would probably troll it, but that would be devastating to me all the same. My family on the other hand is an entirely different matter, and describing the process of my childhood in specific detail would certainly alert them to the fundamental nature of this blog. I don't dare even use my first name here for that reason.
Finally, I feel that by writing here I would be somewhat hurting my chances of eventually writing an autobiography before I die, just in case any of you will ever read such a thing - as I may not be bothered retyping and editing a load of stuff already done for me. But then again it could even help me, what with everything already having been typed out. So this is more a feeling that a concrete reason. Oh and, by the way, I don't think I'm an interesting enough person to have an autobiography made about me. I simply view it to be one of my life goals. It's kind of an immortality fantasy I think, one of the few I have left, but it's also a 'Fuck you world' fantasy, which I have a LOT of in stock for a rainy day. Given that I write an autobiography, I hope that it will serve to remind everyone of how messed up everything is - I'd also stock it chock-full with antinatalist material, if you're wondering how my amateur nowhere-near-as-bad-as-other-people's life could somehow provide others with some sort of Weltschmerz.
I never really know how to end posts, so I'll leave you hanging again using my brilliant charm and wit:
[These lines purposely left blank]
*Most chameleons by the way, DON'T blend in with their backgrounds, and instead of camouflage, use colours to signal their emotions. Also. there's more of that whining about how I'm not a real person boohoo and how I'm manipulative and horrible in the early social posts.
**I'm being a little bit harsh here. Estnihil is more a part of myself that rarely gets used that a complete ex nihilo conjuration from dust. It's still deceptive though, I'm nice enough to tell you how deceptive it is, but sadly horrible and evil and disgusting enough to continue on using 'him' as if nothing had ever happened. Sorry about that.