Life, Death, Honor and Suicide

PLife, Death, Honor and Suicide

Friday night. What's the fuck you're spending your time on? On yourself? To feel sorry for yourself? To stuff yourself with food or to numb your "mind " with booze? To pass the time in front of a TV or a cheap romance novel or a "friend" to gossip? Or to seriously improve your body and your mind? Or are you the type that would go to a club to get some guy or chick to have a mindless fuck later? Or you would do something to improve your neighborhood, the society, and the world? Are you living for yourself or others? 

Have you thought life is so boring and meaningless that you want to kill yourself, but you don't have the guts to do so? So from day to day time hangs heavy on you. Late at night and the damned dog next door barks again and you want to poison the stupid animal? 

For many human animals, life is a burden, that's why they say and do stupid things just to feel alive. 

I know I am different from and superior to most humans on this planet. Everyday I do things to improve my body, my mind, and my finance. 

It has been my observation that the more stupid, ignorant, and unaccomplished a person, the more likely he would say or do the most ridiculous things just to make himself feel smart or important. Frankly, I am tired of dealing with animals like that. Now I understand why cruelties and atrocities occur. Most humans are just so fucked up that they don't deserve to live. Things would be better if they would keep their fucking mouths shut and their "opinions" to themselves. 

If you want to see how fucked up humans are, spend a week in Vegas. If you want to see how precious life is, spend 5 minutes in a war zone or an emergency operating room in a hospital. Life is what you make of it. It has no meaning by itself. It's just there. It's a process of which you are a tiny, insignificant part and over which you have no control. What you can do is to cultivate a Buddhist cum Samurai spirit: go with the flow, doing your best, hoping for the best and accepting the worst outcome while fearlessly facing life and taking whatever it throws at you. A man's character shows in how he deals with the circumstances because he knows his life is the sum of his experiences and choices. Having pontificated all the above shit, it all boils down to a simple fact that you must find within yourself a reason to get up in the morning and face life. You must have a purpose to live. You must have something to look forward to every single day. A bitch recently called me "dense" and "a failure". That led me to a thorough soul searching to see if the bitch's characterization of me rested on firm, sound, irrefutable facts and evidence or it was based on a case of self-projection because the bitch herself was a complete nobody. In the process of evaluating my life, I took note of the following:

-4 university degrees (could have been 6, but that was another story. That is why I am having a restless intellectual program of mind-improvement).

-IQ of 135.

-3 wives and 19 girlfriends (could have 28 if I did not get tired of women's bullshit). Right now I could easily go to bed with at least 4 women, other than my wife, if I want to.

-financially comfortable.

-conversant in 4 languages, familiar with 4 more.

-write poems, stories, and essays in English, an acquired, non-native language. My English is better than that of at least 90% of the native speakers of the language.

-well-read and well-reasoning and excellent at debate.

-sexy, virile, and youthful-looking despite being 65 years of age.

So I suppose the facts about me speak plenty about whether I am "dense" and "a failure". I walk tall and view most humans with pity and disdain because I know I am superior to them. In fact, nowadays I don't open my heart and soul to humans anymore because they are too stupid and insensitive and ignorant to understand a phenomenon like me. However, I do make everyday small talk in order to blend in and to measure how wise or stupid a person is. Let me tell you something: the more stupid and ignorant the person is, the more he tries to cover up his deficiencies. Very few are comfortable with who they are, warts and all, like I am.

When I disclosed that there were many women in my life, stupid and jilted bitches issued vituperations of me, saying that I was a womanizer. Little did they know I was a hopelessly romantic fellow in search of true love. I could tell you this with a straight face: out of that many women, one loved me for sure, maybe two others did as well; the rest were just cheap, conniving bitches. Now any bitch comes near me and hints about the needs for money, I run like hell from them. I am not stupid anymore. And I don't give a shit if they threaten to kill themselves over me. I wouldn't be fooled again. I am not that lovable or important. At my age, love is a four-letter word.  I have seen so many of my friends and acquaintances get sucked into the vortex and trap of pussyland. They are adamant they are in love and their love objects love them back. I told them, "Guys, haven't you heard of nothing is sadder and more pathetic than being an old fool? Have you ever asked yourself that the young woman you're shacking up with or, heavens forbid, married to, would she be with you if you have no money? Be real, my friends. Be a bit cynical. Your wallet will thank you." Shit, even my flesh and blood, my closest kinsmen, are selfish. I cared about them and helped them plenty when they needed help, but they all left me dry and high by myself when it was my turn to need help. Fuck, this world is a cruel one. I am no longer surprised by human cruelty and callousness. I am the loneliest man alive, but I am okay now. I used to be naive, but nothing and nobody is fazing me nowadays. A kind, caring, loving, trustworthy woman is hard to find. Still, I know what love really is. I am not a greedy man. When I die, I won't feel lonely because I have experienced at one time or another, there is a woman who loves me as I am, warts and all. It takes maturity to really love somebody. However, when I was young and green, I really loved two girls, but they thought I was too childish and too unaccomplished for their taste. It took me a long time to be okay with their perceptions of me. Thanks to them and their perceptions and treatments of me, I have learned to be all I can be. I am not like a man they wanted me to be. I just wanted to be the man I could be. 

So, my friends, time is getting short, we have to be ready to die at any time, to let go of all attachments, and close our eyes for good, and realize life is truly a dream. It's our job to make it a beautiful dream, and not a long nightmare. When I recall some stupid, self-righteous assholes said that I was childish, I have a sardonic and bemused smile on my face. A true adult would not have that remark straight to anybody's face. Silence, instead of unnecessary contempt, is a much wiser choice. Silence is strength. To call somebody childish is to rape and rob that person of respect and dignity, and to incur unnecessary and lasting enmity. A true adult would never do that. In fact, to do so is a case of self-projection. To disrespect people is to seek self-destruction. To call somebody childish is to commit a grave insult on the same level of calling him a stupid failure or a mother-fucking asshole. Words reflect the level of emotional, social, intellectual development of the speaker. 

(To be continued)