Human Condition

2025-12-04

You enter the "light" of existence without choice, you a are forcefully born in an act of pain, crying, screaming. All of which foreshadows what is yet to come.

For now, life is not as bad as it will become over the course of many years. — at least if you are born in a first world country — that is, life isn’t riddled with famine and disease, war or the other great pleasures of this realm. If born into this illusion, this supreme privilege, ones life may even seem good and beautiful at first. This state will not last.

With the years you begin to learn, step by step, piece by piece. The crying and the pain will slowly rearrange the neurons in your brain to rearrange the once formless blob, to what may be the greatest mistake of all time. A wet meat machine, a bag of blood, meat, bones and fear only held together by a thin lining, which, when pierced will release all this liquid, spilling out blood until it stops to then rot into nothingness all back again.

But this alone doesn’t make the mistake, it would merely be a disgusting sculpture, weren’t it for the consciousness trapped in this prison one calls his body.

From day one, the only objective is not to be punished by the mechanisms that reside within you, like the rest of you, brought into creation involuntarily by evolution. A creature as complex and intricate as the human cannot exist without an inborn set of torture devices that will lead the meatbag through the horrors of nature. The “goal” is spreading your genes and by direct extension, your suffering. It is very apparent that this cannot be achieved without the utter will to survive and procreate. There is no higher reason to do so, you are the result of those who surived, the other being filtered long ago.

From day one, you act in accordance with the path layed out by the mechanisms that keep you alive for as long as possible. You are kept in check by your nature.

And when the first signs of understanding creep in, the all consuming feeling of futility, of pointlessness, culminating in utter despair, then one resorts to multiplying the suffering. Maybe this will give you a purpose? A reason to live?

And so the meatgrinder is fed. More flesh to mangle, more blood to spill, more minds to drown in unimaginable suffering.