Wickedness

The wickedness of mankind has been discussed since mankind’s creation. There are historical words of far more significance than mine here will ever be. And yet, I still feel a desire to write them. Expression is a therapy. Even as an introvert, generally disliking people (especially listening to them), for some reason, I feel a desire to write these words, which will be read by others. The heart wants what it wants, and sometimes, it’s impossible to understand. It is difficult to know where to begin. For one, there are multiple types of wickedness. There are different perspectives about it. Perspectives within perspectives. Where does one begin? I guess I will begin just by stating the sense of hopelessness that wickedness produces within me.

When I was a child, I was introduced to the concepts of “evil” through religion and through television news. Both of these, around the same time, molded my mind view. I was immediately given a sense of hopelessness about the world. The news broadcasts of murder, rape, theft, etc. that abounded made me feel like the world was a terrible place. And then, sermons discussing how sinful that made us all made me a level even sadder. The world is evil, and we are doomed because of it.

What a fucking way to grow up…

My response to this was terror. For one, I was afraid of all of the murderers out there (I still am to this day: probably more fearful of them than most). And, of course, I was afraid of going to Hell. It was my DUTY to condemn all of the sinners out in the world. But, according to the religion I absorbed, I was also a sinner. We were all guilty. And we needed to ask for forgiveness.

What a terrible fucking way to grow up……

The problem with asking for forgiveness (at least within the context of the environment in which I grew up) is that you can never accept it. There is a perpetual guilt trip that is had over one’s wickedness, and one can never move on, and experience relief from that guilt and fear. So people live in fear and sadness at their own wickedness, and that is a tragedy. It is a tragedy that self-described Christians can’t trust that Christ died for their sins, accept it, and move on. My heart goes out to them, and I look forward to growing stronger in “the faith” as time goes on.

But even as a self-professed Christian, I can’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness about the world. I suppose I’m not so different from the doom-and-gloom naysayers of today (certain types of whom, I abhor). Perhaps it is just within my nature to be pessimistic. (I’ve already planned a future article going into further detail about my pessimism). With the childhood memories that I have described to you (not in vivid detail), combined with other pretty much traumatic childhood experiences, it is obvious to me why I am so pessimistic about the future. Despite the fact that she may read this, and despite the fact that she may still try to contact me about it, guilt trip me about it, avoid accepting the responsibilities of her actions, etc., a child can only sit out in the yard at night, waiting for their mother to come home, only for them to come home momentarily, then leave again, before they give up hope. I suppose that’s all I want to say about that at the moment, besides fuck her, and I’ll write about this some other time (once again, I’m sure she’s reading this, but I’m sure she’s going to deflect from her responsibility: and even if she doesn’t, I don’t want to hear what she has to say right now).

So now that I’ve given you some (extremely personal) backdrop into how my perspective developed, you shan’t be surprised at what else I am going to say. All around me, I feel hopeless. I feel hopeless particularly when I observe politics. I feel hopeless that historical words are ignored (even though I’m not a large reader nor student of history). I feel a sense of hopelessness when I see politicians praised Messianically (even though I love Ron Paul). I feel a sense of hopelessness at my own contradictory nature, at the ignorance of majorities, of the corruption of politicians, at the wars they create (that large numbers of citizens support). All around me, there is justification for hopelessness. And that hopelessness, I feel.

Many religious words do not bring me peace. It’s no wonder, considering the torment they put me through for many, many years. I do not care much for religious words anymore, nor religious people. I do not care for the “yeah, but” moralists, who seem to think it their duty to provide to you things they think you haven’t thought of, but which are things you’ve thought of more deeply than they know. All around me, there are problems. The repetition of ideas that circle around. The ignorant level discussions remain at. The sense of moralistic self-righteousness upon the part of millions. There’s a lot to be hopeless about. (And that isn’t even considering “less wicked” things to be hopeless about, such as finances, etc.). There’s not a lot to look forward to on this Earth for me. A “wife and kids”, which many men are happy with, doesn’t interest me. A higher paying job doesn’t (necessarily) interest me. So much of the advice that people try to give to me doesn’t apply to me. And it’s hard to do things by yourself: particularly when you have such a sense of hopelessness about the world as I do. (If you feel like shit: good. I’m glad). All around me are things that don’t work for me. All around me are people eager to give me their inapplicable advice. Their “yeah, but”s. It truly is exhausting, and helps exacerbate that sense of hopelessness that I feel, introduced more than a decade ago.

Most of the religious perspectives about evil are absolute garbage. Particularly of the “free will” variety. Nothing provides a sense of hopelessness quite like free will baptism (except, perhaps, extreme poverty in a war-torn third-world country). Despite the fact that someone could say the same thing about my despair, the anxieties that come with religion are excessive, unnecessary, destructive, crippling, and, worse of all, in my opinion, depressing.

The only thing that has saved me is entertainment. The only thing that has saved me from this religious, observance-of-evil induced funk is entertainment. Making myself laugh. It’s all I’ve got to save me from crippling depression. It’s a bit terrifying to me that, at least to me, I sound a bit like Robin Williams. But at least it is terrifying to me, so that I don’t want to go the route he did. I am horrifically depressed at the world, and the only thing that can help me with this is occupying my time with things that do not produce that depression within me (so avoiding people is an ABSOLUTE MUST. I kind of hope that eating isn’t my coping mechanism of choice right now, as I’m consuming more “donut sticks” than are unhealthier than unhealthy).

In some ways, it’s no surprise that my sense of humor is so dark. If my perspective developed the way it did into what it did, and the only thing that makes me happy is entertainment, and few people can truly entertain me, then it makes sense that, as I said, I must make myself happy, produce entertainment that makes me happy, and, of course, the entertainment that makes me happy is going to be the entertainment that most applies to me; and me is that dark, depressing youth that I grew up in, what I want to save myself from, and what I use to actually do it with. So I do feel a sense of joy when I bring others down. I want everyone to know that the world at least can be a really, really shitty place. I think many know that, but not enough do, in my opinion (nor to the right degree: although it could be argued that at least they’re happy, and not depressed like me), and their stupidity and ignorance of evil just allows for evil to flourish all the more. It is important to me to make other people aware of evil, and of course that is going to “bring them down”: particularly if they’re ignorant. But it’s all for a good cause, in my opinion. Awareness of evil is the only way to bring it to justice.

So what I do is make myself laugh, try to be smart, make other people believe I’m funny and smart, and try to get them to give me money so I don’t have to do pretty much any other job which I believe will be shit. Doesn’t matter your suggestion: it’s shit. Regardless of what career advice you give me, if it isn’t a combination of writing, comedy, and video…it’s shit.

Thank you for taking the time to read this article that will fade into historical obscurity, and will have no influence on your life whatsoever, when after the 15 minutes that it took you to read this, you will never think of this, nor me, again……

(For those of you interested, Stefan Molyneux has some interesting things to say about forgiveness).

Here’s my best friend’s opposing viewpoint on hopelessness.

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One thought on “Wickedness

  1. Pingback: Murderers in Heaven | idk wtf im doing lol im crazy

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