Please don’t turn away from this post because you have different beliefs than me. I’ve spend more hours in a church than I have spent doing homework my entire life. I have been raised to be accepting of everyone’s views, and for a few minutes of reading time, I ask for you to be as well. This blog, I know, has been more of a platform for me to blindly tell the world how I feel about things rather than the network for my creative writing, as it was meant for. Sadly as of the moment all my creativity is being pushed to find new and exciting ways to keep myself from failing math this semester. So, bare with me.
I was raised to be a roman catholic. I suppose I should capitalize that seeing as many feel their cults deserve pronoun-like respect. As a Roman Catholic, and going to Catholic primary school, I got to learn the ways of the lord, and the tales of the bible. My grandparents and parents thought they were doing me a favor; bringing me into their religious beliefs before I could spell the world Mississippi (Also a pronoun but sadly not a cult) and forcing me to spend more time in my day for religious study than mathematics. Yes, from a young age I was doomed to be bad at numbers. But, that really shouldn’t be the motif of this.
I then moved on to a Lutheran faith when my Catholic school closed and I was introduced to people of other belief. I went to Lutheran church and spend time with a Lutheran family for a few years. During this time I was an adolescent so I was questioning everything. I was questioning why I was supposed to learn algebra and why everyone was so sure there was a god. I was also really, really afraid of dying. From a young age the concept of Hell was real to me, and from a young age I thought even saying certain words would doom me to a lake of fire for the rest of eternity (Which doesn’t make any sense, but Unicorns don’t either and they’re right there in the bible as well). So, I didn’t really understand why people even believed this stuff, and why the people who opposed were so adamant of opposing and proving religions wrong.
I know, I know, a lot of back-story.
Anyway, I stopped believing in god around winter of freshman year of high school. I came to realize that at night, when I was lying in bed and talking to my ceiling, I just made myself sadder. I begged my ceiling to be happy and to make my parents love each other and to show me signs of why I was even on this earth. But, you know, ceilings are pretty quiet.
The more and more my 14-year-old self stepped away from religion, the more and more I realized how awesome the world was. I could say the word Fuck and not have to worry about drowning in fire. I could see nature as something that would only happen in small circumstances of evolution, not the easy creation of a higher power. Suddenly everything was brighter. The evils of the world were not a response of the devil, and this so called devil would have no impact on my life. Everything I did wrong was okay. We were all going to die, so why must we live a perfect and boring life on earth while being simultaneously judged by a figment of our imaginations? Religion seemed really dumb.
It was easier in the fact that my super religious friend seemed even dumber. When I wanted to talk about college and the future, she would kind of just zone out and say that god had a plan for her. And I saw more and more why people looked at me weirdly when I tried to witness to them about Jesus and tell them it would all be okay. It seemed really stupid on my part.
I didn’t know what to call myself, so I just kind of said “I don’t believe in anything”. And then recently I found out what I do believe, or think, rather, is nihilism. We are just specs upon specs of specs of randomness (Dr. Seuss had a good thing going, man). And nothing you, or I ever do will make a change in the ultimate force of how things will play out. In ten years that time I ran into a trash can won’t matter. In one hundred years, you and I probably be on no one’s minds ever. Like, ever. Unless I write an amazing book, of course. But, let’s not get our hopes up.
Personally, I like not having a higher power watching over at me. Every time something fails, which is usually a daily occurrence, I don’t feel as if I did something wrong, or as if the devil is trying to trick me into thinking my cult leader is upset with my actions. Because my actions don’t matter. Not really. And I’m not afraid of death anymore. When I die, my brain will stop functioning. I’m no Bill Nye, but I know that when I die, I won’t have any thoughts. And the thing is, not having any thoughts means I can’t summon up a thought or emotion of fear. I simply won’t exist. And the only scary thing about not existing is getting to that point.
The brain named itself.
I didn’t make up that cool quote, but I know it’s true. And it really helps my point. The brain is what is your thoughts. Yeah, how profound, but without thoughts, you couldn’t think about god, or that you have a soul. A soul. Your brain made thought waves, or whatever, and you thought up the idea of a soul. There is no part of your body that is a soul. It’s kind of (as I see it) a network of your consciousness. But, without the consciousness, the idea couldn’t exist. If we look at it with a timeline, the brain and all of it’s thoughts would have to exist before the soul so as the soul could be there. But since the brain and it’s thoughts are simply a network of signals and neurons which make up your thought, there really isn’t a soul. So, when your brain stops, so does the so-called “soul”.
I’ve confused you, but I’m not trying to persuade you.
This is just how I see the world. It makes sense to me, and it’s more logical than a higher power and more logical than eternal life. So, then, why even say this aloud (or… type it aloud?) if I’m a nihilist and know that nothing really matters? Well, Watson, that is a good question. Probably a better question is why am I asking myself questions posing as John Watson. But, you know, logistics.
There really isn’t any point to anything, as I see it. That’s why I don’t care about things that I probably should care about. And talking about how we all mean nothing sometimes makes me angry because, truth be told, I’d like for something to have meaning. But life does have meaning. It’s a time for you, and your thoughts and consciousnesses to be happy, to find something you enjoy. To live. And that’s why I kind of like viewing the would in the way I do. I don’t have to succumb to rituals, or rules of faith, or fright that I will screw something up. I can just live, and enjoy that the universe kind of messed up and made earth, and me, and everyone who is alive. And I can just live, and not worry so much because in the end, we’re all going to die. And I can just live because there really isn’t any other point I can make.
I’d love to hear your thoughts and how you probably think mine are completely misguided, so comment away. And that isn’t sarcasm. I haven’t had a comment for months, so please, type away.
Hopefully throughout the next few weeks I can get back to fiction writing, which is what I enjoy most (Besides putting puns in essays). And if I do, I’ll be quick to share it here on this blog, which if you aren’t following you should start following. It’s like super easy, you just gotta click that button that is somewhere to the right of this, and somewhere on top of this page, I’m pretty sure. Seriously. Just click it. Please.
Lastly, you can always comment for things you’d like to see, or send me a shout on twitter, which is also a click away in the right column somewhere. Thanks for reading this and as always, keep on writing.