What if someone told you that misery is all there is?
Would you panic?
Resort to prayer?
Go to Disneyland?
Drink a fifth of Jack Daniels?
What would you think? Perhaps you would not be surprised.
I wasn’t. When the voice in my head woke me up one night (the curtains were drawn, the streetlights were faint and weak, the street was silent, but the thought jarred me…) and told me this, I was not shocked.
Men have epiphanies about stupid shit all the time and mine was no different.
Life is misery.
Misery is the elemental state of existence. Misery defines Real, it demarcates darkness from light. There is great succor to be found in absolute acceptance of misery.
Misery is the only thing that is real, the only thing we can ever trust. Misery is our idol. It is our worship. Misery is my god. Misery never lets me down and will always spring to action if I forget I have no control over this piddling life. Misery is the only landscape that defines our journey.
We all want to feel good. We want to be “happy” and joyous. It’s as if buoyancy is our natural right. We want to smile and we frequently find every reason to contrive some stupid reason to, a reason which we miscalculate as “luck” which is in fact just another kick in the balls.
Misery spawns reality. Happiness mutes it, and this is where we find pleasure.
The muting of misery.
We live entire godforsaken lives muting misery because fantasy is a much nicer place to live.
However, some of us gave up on that dream long ago and we relish the misery. We are misery.
It precedes our steps. Misery announces us.
We do not shirk it. We mock happiness for it is a weak ghost. Happiness is a ghost that can never lay a hand on us.
But misery. It is the weak, rusty bones I sit on, it is the faded dreams and incorrigible gloom I cannot escape.
Misery is my friend and my savior.
I wish I loved happiness as much as you.
I believe that you drank the fifth of Jack!
Good Lord!
I just can not believe that you really think misery makes you “real” and that in a perverse way it is your happiness.
What happened today for this lovely post?
Happiness, as is misery, is what an individual chooses.
I choose happiness whenever I can. But there are times when the misery can overtake the happiness.
Thus for me I think of what I am thankful for.
Well, there is more but I must go to bed now.
LOL, hear hear, Mark!
This is a post you either immediately connect to or have no idea what it means. There is no middle ground.
Don’t know about that. I understand DQ’s perspective, where he’s coming from; however, I don’t agree. That’s all.
I see you’ve discovered existentialism. Don’t worry; there were some gloomy 20th century European intellectuals there before you, so you have company.
Does a fish know what water is, unless it has been brought up into unbreathable, poisonous (to it) air?
How can we even know what misery is, except that it be the opposite state of what we ought to be able to have, joy? Joy, not mere happiness, is truly the opposite state of misery, surely. And we can only know the two by having experienced both, surely.
Can we be sure misery is the default state? If so, why does it feel wrong? Joy feels good. Misery feels wrong, and bad.
Darkly funny story: once late night, back in university, I was arguing with an atheist who declared the universe was meaningless AND cruel (till I pointed out the contradiction, which to his credit he acknowledged), and at one point, I said, “I believe there’s a Light that shines in the Darkness.” He responded, “For me, there is only Darkness”. And at that moment, there was a power outage in the room, and the lights went out. We sat there laughing our heads off in the darkness, at 3am or whatever ungodly hour it was.
Thought you’d appreciate that. :)
Here’s some more dark humour for ya, because hey – ya gotta laugh:
http://www.theonion.com/articles/new-crispy-snack-cracker-to-ease-crushing-pain-of,1021/
http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3021/2695854241_7081d75689_b_d.jpg