On the Futility of Life
Some undoubtedly think someone as young as I am should brimming with hope and optimism. Alas, I possess neither.
In my years, I notice people engaging in the same routine every day. Every year of their lives just leaves them older with the few constants being pain, sorrow, work, taxes and bills. Sound appealing? I thought not. What makes it better to live such a life than to live no life at all?
The successful and the unsuccessful perish. The rich and the poor perish. The healthy and the sick perish. The strong and the weak perish. If one gains the whole world, what profit will it be to him in death? If one accumulates innumerable possessions, what profit will they be to him in death? If one acquires great strength, what profit will it be to him in death?
To what end do I toil and endure? Why do I rise in the morning? What makes the misery worthwhile?
What has my life thus far amounted to? Very, very little. I behold myself in the mirror and state, "So this is what I have become." I hate seeing former teachers or schoolmates when I am on the job...or anywhere for that matter, since they unwittingly remind me of my failure; with all of the potential people say they see in me and my distinguished academic career, I am ashamed to be where I am. Truly, I could have become more than what I am today, and this knowledge torments me. I could have had a family of my own by now, a house and decently compensating employment. But what am I now? A bachelor who has never dated working a job where the pay and the frustration prove inversely proportional in a decidedly negative fashion. I no longer have the charisma I once had in public speaking, which I discovered after taking a required speech course at my new school after the fateful "Spring Break" of 2001; I found watching the video of my speeches to be deeply disappointing.
I start my last class on the 23rd of this month, but I wish it was over now. I hoped in the past if I was still in school at this time of life, I would be on my way to a Ph.D., not a bloody Bachelor's degree. The degree will prove to be more highly esteemed by other people, particularly employers, than myself; it is just an overrated, expensive piece of paper to me. I can and do learn just fine outside the confines of a university campus, which by no means has a monopoly on knowledge.
What do I have which makes my presence in this world meaningful? In my honest opinion, I have only one asset, my mind. Are there greater minds out there? Of course there are, so what I have to offer is hardly much; it is not as if I have unlocked the secrets of the universe and shared them. My outlook on life is obviously not rosy, so I do not exactly give off an infectious zest for life. I have provided some modest amounts of encouragement and levity to others occasionally, but these could be performed with greater frequency and efficacy by others.
Will my outlook on life ever improve? Perhaps, but it will never happen sans adequate justification.
Will life ever be more than an exercise in futility? If so, when? I long to live, not merely exist.