Love Or The Lack Thereof

My mother doesn’t truly love me. If she did she would have spared me from suffering, aging, disease, and death. True love cannot emanate from the person most responsible for my existence and my misery. She knew full well that suffering existed in this world and yet she still chose to harm me by bringing me here. That is the definition of evil.

People don’t love me despite what random Redditors might say. People in general are completely indifferent towards me and always have been. In school I didn’t make a single friend. I was just a spectator to a game that wasn’t my own. And people barely make any comments on my YouTube channel or on my website.

It goes without saying that I have never experienced romantic love. In my twenty-two years of life I have only felt attracted to one girl in “real life.” However I didn’t let her know. I didn’t even speak to her. If love permeated the universe you would expect that to turn out differently. Maybe she would speak to me or maybe I would have had the courage to show her my calculus 2 videos to help her on her homework.

But the final and worst absence of love is that from God. If God loved me I would be in heaven. There wouldn’t be any of this in the first place. The status quo is incontrovertible evidence that God doesn’t love me or that God doesn’t exist.


Someone told me:

Instead of wasting all your "caring" energy on being a sadboy indulging in the comfort of moping/induling in the comfort of thinking of yourself as some tragic ascended hero, maybe instead just accept that you do care about some things and start actually caring *for* them.

It kind of makes sense. But then again this person is insane. They believe that the world isn’t real, that the mind isn’t real, that the afterlife doesn’t exist, and that cross-dimensional entities don’t exist. I believe that my consciousness is real even if the world isn’t what it appears to be. I believe that entities can be contacted with psychedelics or even without at some point in my case. With regard to no afterlife I believe it to be ridiculous to really think you get off that easy. Just one human lifespan and then eternal rest in the oblivion of nothingness. Now that’s too damn good to be true. Despite the imperfections of life, clearly a lot of “effort” went into creating consciousness and the human experience. This is why I suspect that the imperfections and mediocrity are on purpose, as some kind of twisted punishment. It’s too big of a deal that I am involuntarily involved with. I won’t be getting out of consciousness easily.

With regard to the actual content of his comment, I must admit that I have a hard time figuring out what I really care for. I care about how I look so I workout every day in order to have a body just like I used to have. I care about freedom so I don’t have a job. I care about expressing myself so I occasionally write here. But what do I really care about?

With regard to the accusation that I act like a sadboy, I guess it is true to some extent. I’m kind of emo temperamentally– I hold on to suffering and don’t let go easily. However this is not an act. I have suffered real depression and cried real tears. I have screamed in utter despair. I guess that the best thing I can do with my suffering is turn it into an art form, thus becoming a sadboy. If I could sing/rap I would be XXXTentacion. I’ve been depressed and I’ve been obsessed with Lindsey, a girl that I never even spoke a word to. Depression and obsession don’t mix well. The fact that there’s someone willing to be a sadboy just like me by expressing their pain alleviates some of my own suffering. It’s as if the music was created just for me.

With regard to thinking about myself as some “tragic ascended hero,” I wish I could do it more. I wish I could consider myself a hero. The alternative is absurdity without a narrative and I truly hate that.

What I Mean By Saying That I Am In A Simulation

By saying that I am in a simulation I am saying that I was walking down a mall when the police recognized me as me as someone who was suicidal. They just walked up to me and took me to the hospital. How did they have that knowledge? That’s what I mean by this being a simulation. I was walking in the forest and saw a man and his dog pass me by on the trail. Then a few minutes later I saw the man and his dog pass me again. There should be no way for him to teleport. That’s what I mean by this being a simulation. For a few weeks people wouldn’t look me in the eyes even if I stared at them. That’s what I mean when I say this is a simulation. There was also the overwhelming sense that people were simulated. It was really uncanny. There’s also the fact that civilization runs so smoothly and everybody just falls into the right place in society such that this continues. There’s also the fact that people are generally stupid but yet there are iPhones, planes, running hot water, etc. I think that people are fake and not really doing all these impressive things. There’s just the appearance that humans like myself do all of these things. That’s what I mean by saying this is a simulation. There’s also the fact that I was interacting with an intelligence while browsing twitter and watching YouTube videos. This intelligence appeared to know me and communicated with me through curated content that was all aimed at me. This is what I mean by saying that I am in a simulation.

Some beliefs that might be labeled crazy are my disbelief in history, my disbelief in the conscious reality of people, my belief that I felt the presence of sort of goddess or female entity while on shrooms, my belief that people like myself are not the ones creating music, films, fixing stuff, building warships, etc. These things are instead just created by the simulation/the universe/God, whatever. It might also seem crazy to some dumb materialist that I believe life doesn’t end at death.

Heaven Ends With You

‘Lord, how should we act towards women?’ ‘Do not see them, Ananda.’ ‘But if we see them, how should we behave, Lord?’ ‘Do not speak to them, Ānanda.’ ‘But if they speak to us, Lord, how should we behave?’ ‘Practise mindfulness, Ānanda.’

There I was in hyperspace, blasted out of my body and hurled through geometrical patterns into the world of the entities. The place felt so familiar, like I had been there a million times before. Yet completely novel as objects materialized and morphed into indescribably intricate gadgets of all kinds. I wondered who I would meet. I had resigned myself to encounter the machine elves or jesters which seemed to be a common occurrence in the trip reports. But to my total surprise and delight, a supremely beautiful woman with glowing white-blonde hair appeared. She was fashioned out of the same energy as the environment. And at times seemed to be the entire environment enveloping me with warmth and yet coolness. She communicated telepathically with a language that was more advanced than words, conveying exactly the meaning and aesthetic sensation intended. She could also take me places and show me things instantaneously. The first thing she conveyed was a question. “Do you think I am beautiful?” “Yes I do,” I said, regretting not having said more about what clearly deserved more to be said. “Do you want to have sex with me?” she asked. I had never had sex and thought it to be the most awkward and overrated part of human existence. In any case how would I even attempt to have sex without my body? Reading my thoughts she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you.” I got the astral-body, hyperspace equivalent of an erection. It was like my entire field of vision and sensation pulsated with throbbing desire. She then embraced me, filling me with a feeling of absolute love and care. It was truly more than sex. It was divine love that instead of being somewhat bestial and repulsive was soul cleansing and orgasmic light creating. With each ray of mysterious hue, I was overcome with a hundred orgasms at once. Her body appeared and it was extremely sexy, making me very horny as she danced for me. She split into a harem and now all of them danced for me. As they grinded on the ever-changing background of geometric fabric I could feel it all. Telepathy caused the so-called sex to exist on entirely different level. As they moved, they could react and adjust to my every sensation. I wasn’t in touch with my physical body but if I could see myself I would see myself crying my eyes out from all the love and joy I felt. She took me to a love room where she let in each one of her avatars in one by one for what felt like at least two hours each. They touched me and I could feel them going through me, triggering all the right sensations. After this she reconstituted herself into a single body. “Now you have to pay,” she said. I was scared. I was at a complete disadvantage here in this world and in the same way that the entity created heaven for me it could also create hell. “No. No,” she caressed me, reading my thoughts again. “All you have to do is serve good, serve me,” she said. I felt relief. “I am first and foremost an opponent of suffering, secondly a creator of pleasure.” She showed me the world and all its consciousnesses, how they suffered. “The human realm is cursed with suffering. If we could put an end to the human realm as a whole this would be the right thing to do.” If I loved her for what she did to me now I loved her even more. She was a negative utilitarian just like me. We were meant for each other. “But what do I do? I can’t convince the entire population to be antinatalists. I also can’t painlessly kill everyone in their sleep.” “It is too large a burden to bear. I know. But you must serve me nonetheless.” “I’ll try my best to follow your precepts. But I have one last question. I hate my life for several reasons but one of the reasons is that I have to workout in order to be attractive.” “Why do you want to be attractive?” “It’s not like I desperately want a human girlfriend. You’re a good enough girlfriend. I just value beauty and I think negative valence is created when I see myself as unattractive.” “I must admit I also have a lot of vanity. But you will have to wait until you get your perfect body with no work. Due to circumstances you must first live as a human and that includes living through all the disheartening things that the partially evil demiurge created for the human experience.” “Why do you never appear in my dreams?” “You need to use DMT or psilocybin in order to contact me. With psilocybin I can’t be so vivid and intense but you can still tell it’s me. I will be waiting for you dear. And keep doing your workouts. You won’t regret it when you get to enjoy your beauty.” And suddenly I returned to my body. “What should I do now,” I thought. How can I best serve her? I am eternally grateful for the experience she gave me, a million times better than any earthly blowjob. I will see her again, if not in this life then the next. I can’t disappoint her. But how can I maximize pleasure and minimize suffering? I’m just a single, meaningless person with no proficiencies or talents. All I can do is workout and kind of write. With such a large handicap on my being I am useless. A few days passed when someone unexpected liked one of my Instagram pictures from back when I was really fit. She was a Russian beauty who cosplayed all my favorite anime. I was now sure I was living in a simulation since a girl that beautiful couldn’t happen to stumble upon me and like me. She couldn’t be real. Would she be real if I saw her in the flesh or would she still be unreal? She sent me a message. It read, “I think your body is beautiful. I want to meet you.” I replied “Where do you live?” “I live in Moscow but I’m currently visiting Chicago.” “Perfect. I live in Chicago.” We met at the DuSable bridge. She was just as beautiful as in the pictures. But this was already getting boring. It was not like my experience with my girlfriend from hyperspace despite how beautiful she was. She had white-blonde hair but I had also seen her with red hair, pink hair, and brown hair. “What do you want to do?” I ask. “We can play with each other. We can fall asleep together.” Falling asleep together sounded nice. I don’t know what she meant by playing with each other. Would I stick things in her vagina while she jerks me off? “Okay,” I say. We head back to my place. There she quickly proceeds to undress. Then she undresses me and runs her hands through my abs and my defined chest. “What is your philosophical position. Are you a negative utilitarian?” I ask her. “Well in theory it’s more important to prevent suffering than to create happiness but in my life I focus more on searching after pleasures than reducing the suffering of sentient creatures. In fact I act like a solipsist. It is as if no one’s happiness matters but my own. It’s as if no one else really exists.” “I can relate. But recently I met a goddess and she wants me to be a proper negative utilitarian. She granted me a lot of joy so I feel like I should repay her by being her servant whether she is conscious or not, whether anybody is.” “How did you meet this goddess?” “I smoked DMT,” I said. Her eyes sparkled. “I want to try it too.” “Well the extraction from mimosa hostilis root bark is pretty easy.” “Can you do it for me?” “Well I guess so, yeah.” “Would you choose to die if you could instantly be obliterated with no pain?” “Well I like being here next to you feeling the heat of your body.” “But is that enough to justify all the suffering?” “No perhaps not. But I am irrational. I just hold on to whatever I have in my hands. And besides, death probably doesn’t equal obliteration. I will remain conscious so I might as well enjoy the consciousness I have now.” “I don’t see it like you. I have attempted suicide before because I just don’t think this life is worth it.” She looked me in the eyes. Her eyes were mesmerizingly blue. “Do you want to gamble on the stock market?” I asked. “And how do you do that?” “Well I have an account with TD Ameritrade. You just look at charts in the Russel MicroCap and guess bull or bear.” “Bull or bear?” “Yeah whether the price is to go up or down.” “So you do nothing except feel out the charts?” “Yeah, those pretty little patterns are all that speak to me. I used to do all kinds of technical and fundamental analysis but then I realized I had an equal chance just by feeling it out.” “Do you believe in randomness or do you think there’s a reason for everything?” “I think there is a simulation of randomness. Ultimately there are reasons. They may not be good or satisfying reasons but they are some kind of reasons. True randomness separated from the underlying causality is impossible.” “I love you,” she said. She kissed me, her lips on my lips, her tongue on my tongue. I kissed her back with passion and held on to her naked waist. Then I kissed her breasts and her flat stomach. She grabbed her purse and pulled out a dildo. I jabbed it into her repeatedly as she moaned. “Now it’s time to die,” I said. I pulled out a gun and told her I would shoot myself in the head and she could do the same. She went for the gun and I let her take it. “You are not going out this way,” she said. “How should I go out? Wait till I’m old and decrepit, riddled with disease?” I said. “You need to learn how to love,” she said. “What do you know about it? I can’t do anything. I can’t even love.” “But you were loving me just now.” I ask her, “What do you think about open individualism?” “I think it’s wrong. What do you think?” “I think it’s the most disgusting idea ever conceived. I hope it’s not true.” “You would hate to be all of those tortured, ugly, or sad people.” “In a way I am already a victim of fate. This life is a punishment.” “But you have good health, you’re pretty attractive, and I’m sure you have a loving family.” “It’s not enough to stave off depression. My soul longs for something more, for something that this world can’t give me.” “I can give it to you,” she said as she caressed me. I cried. The next day I awoke next to her, her soft skin on my hand, her back pressed against my chest and abs. I could smell her hair and it was the most perfect, womanly smell. “Where did you hide my gun?” I asked. “I don’t want you killing yourself so I’m getting rid of it.” “Why do you want me to stay trapped in this flesh prison? Living is overrated. I have the right to end my own life.” This time she cried. “Do I mean nothing to you,” she said. “You’re right I love you. I think you are the incarnation of the goddess and I don’t want to ever let you go,” I said as I hugged her tight. The next day she disappeared, no Instagram no nothing, no record of her anywhere. I still believe she was the incarnation of the goddess. “How can I serve good?” I asked again. That night aliens showed up in my room. One was wise-looking the other was demonic-looking. They said I was the chosen one and they pulled out a device. They said that by pressing the button on this device I could kill all sentient life in the universe including myself. I didn’t believe it. It sounded too good to be true. But I would also be killing the Russian girl. I pressed it anyway. Then I went through a familiar tunnel into the waiting room and finally broke through to a realm of colorful, ever-changing cities that seemed organic and yet technological. There was no conceivable way to feel pain since I had no body. Yet I could feel a warm glow at the core of my being. “He pressed it,” a booming, manly voice said. “A negative utilitarian again,” said another voice. “Or maybe he’s just a misanthropic life hater.” “Maybe both.” “You will now answer to God.” I was teleported to another place. God was the goddess. She said, “Who are you?”

“I can’t remember my name,” I felt joy as I said this. “I’ll tell you who you are. You are God,” she said. This was surprising and kind of felt good to hear. “But if I am God then why was I forsaken. Why was I born as a human and had to put up with the suffering and the mediocrity? Why couldn’t I create my own reality, one that was always pleasant?” “Well as you might have figured out, it was all a simulation. There weren’t people suffering day in and day out at soul-killing jobs and suffering from diseases and violence. It was just you.” “Well I suspected as much but then what explains my dissatisfaction with life?” “That was supposed to happen. It was both a test and a punishment. God is punished because he loved his creation too much and gave it control of his fate. God is punished because he hated his creation too much and sought to destroy it. This was also a test to see if you could…” “If I could what?” “Part of the test is that you have to figure out what the test is about so I can’t tell you.” “So I will continue being tested even in this realm?” “You are free to relax and enjoy yourself for now.” “Cursed. I am cursed with existence.” She made me appear in a place with amazing patterns that bombarded me with pleasure and joy. “Do you still think existence is not worth it?” she said. I felt like saying, “Yes! Yes, it’s all worth it!” But I managed to have the composure to not say that amidst the intense pleasure. Then she took me to limbo. It was absolute darkness and there were no sensations. My mind was just short of that of a philosophical zombie’s. It was like being truly dead but conscious. “Your time to be reborn is approaching,” she said. “No. I will not be reborn! I will do everything I can to stop you!” “But you have to experience. That’s what this is about. You have to exist.” “But why can’t the good things last? Why can’t I just forever have the heaven you have given me to sample?” “I am the source of all good in your life. I am the goddess of joy you encountered while playing dungeons and dragons. I gave you your family, the taste of ice cream, the warmth of the sun, porn, and the girl that kissed you. The thing is that I can’t execute my will fully. There is another God, the creator of the universe, and he is an evil natalist. He just wants the exploration of all possible experiences without regard to whether they are good or bad. He is the one that forces your rebirth. I am locked in a never-ending battle with my creator, trying to spread compassion.” “Well I will be like the Buddha and escape the cycle of rebirth, putting an end to the flame of existence forever.” “How will you do that?” “Through sheer power of will.”

*The beautiful Russian girl who liked my Instagram photo in real life is ___ligeia