What am I meant to do with my life?
I'm painfully aware that fate has no plan for me, or anyone else for that matter. I know the world doesn't have a vendetta against me, it's just ignoring me like it does everyone else. I know that I shouldn't take it personally when I have mornings when I wake up and just whimper, wondering what the point of it all is, that it's not my fault that I live in a world that wasn't made for me with people who wish that people like me were dead.
Why, then, am I not the only one who feels lost and dejected? Why am I not the only one who appears to be done with waiting for the people we elected to change and now just wants to build a world for herself? Why does no one seem to care that we live in a world that can adequately support about twenty percent of humanity? Think about it. We have women, people of color, LGBTQIA+ groups, and groups with varying disabilities/mental illnesses all saying the world was in no way meant to support them or was actively made to oppress them. You know what happens to a bridge that can only support twenty percent of the load it was meant to support? It collapses. Yet our leaders keep insisting that we should drive on metaphorical bridges they didn't engineer for our use and put no effort into maintaining.
On a personal level, I want a lot of things. I want a world where I can be an artists who posts for free, has a small following, and doesn't have to worry about criticism because no one thinks that I'm worth criticizing. On a more practical level, we need to stop pretending that we can put people in a room, have them throw punches at each other until most of them are dead, and call that a society. Even if we know next to nothing about what causes people to believe a world is real, we could be doing so much better than we're doing right now, if only by instituting a system where countries judged one another's system and where we work to make sure there isn't a wildly imbalanced power dynamic between countries so we can discuss what isn't working more honestly.
I'm trying to push for a world where we can talk about society as what it really is; a figment of our collective imagination, one that doesn't exist if we don't look after and maintain it, and one that can be doomed if we aren't very careful about how we build it in the first place. I believe in a lot of crazy things because I don't think a world that doesn't let us believe in crazy things is one that will last very long. I can't prove that physics will fall apart the way it does in all of my stories, but for our purposes I don't think it matters. We don't live in reality. We aren't smart enough, and there are nowhere near enough of us to construct an analogy that's even close to what reality is, assuming that an external, objective reality exists of course.
I can't help but feel like I'm being thwarted, because I live in a world where climate change, a thing that's been warned about for as long as I've been alive, still isn't being fixed and people are now boiling alive because of it. I live in a world where when a global pandemic was said to have ended, our government did nothing to help us recover mentally or spiritually, nothing beyond a few candle lightings. There were no proper discussions about how to help the country move on, or even discussions of how to keep the corporations from screwing us until we'd gotten back on our feet, and when the corporations did screw us, all we got was talk about how inflation had gotten really bad. I live in a world where fascism has gotten so widespread that the democrats are platforming a fascist candidate, and all I hear are people saying that he's not likely to win. As if we didn't say the same things when Donald Trump was running, and now look what's happened to the republican party.
I'm trapped in a dying world. Everything I loved is slowly vanishing, and it seems as though nothing new is coming to take it's place. There's nothing to distract me from my sense of helplessness but to write endlessly and to look at things left over from when times were better. It does help to remember that even things you didn't like can go on to become fond memories, but they don't replace a sense of purpose and engagement. Even if things weren't awful right now, I'd still be a blogger on a platform no one uses screaming into a void, and I'd still have no answer to the question I posed at the beginning; what am I meant to do with my life?
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