I've realized I've checked every new response here holding my breath, but never wrote anything myself. Felt like everything had already been told, really.
And it might be too late to add something. I loathe myself for it.
You guys know what the worst thing is? If Squigs has decided to end everything, we'll probably never know. This is the weird side of an Internet community. You care about people, but they may be one close window button away from never being heard from again.
- This is not true for everyone. If Tom stops giving news, I've been to his home. I'll take the next flight to the frozen pile of rocky shit that his archipelago is and kick his Norwegian ass. -
Now I don't know, Squigs. Forum says you haven't been online since october 3rd. That may be true, or maybe you check the forum anonymously from time to time.
But hear me out.
Every time I open a tab to this forum and magically allow this particular group of friends to keep existing in my life, I think of you. Where is he? What's he doing? Is he okay? I'll check for new posts in topics I'm interested in, all the while looking at this "Ok." thread and feeling something strange. We've never properly talked, posts of ours may have crossed and interacted, in the forum or in the chat. And I mean... millions of people come and go on the Internet every day.
But this here is a family.
Like every family, there is a whole spectrum of people. Like every family, you don't get to choose these people. There are people you get along with, some you don't. They're not perfect. BDA is sometimes a quick-angered jerk. Tom a pretentious prick. Sometimes I don't understand a word Regan says. Owen is twelve.
But it's a family. That means I care. I don't get to define how much I care. I just do. I want these people in my family to be okay. I'm not sure I perfectly knew who Invid was, but then he was gone and I was deeply sad.
This is my family. I love you all unconditionally. That means also you.
I know depression. I don't know yours, everyone has their own. But I know mind numbness. I know the "average grey" color. That I don't like or understand who I am, and I don't want it. I didn't even choose it. Fuck this arbitrary universe.
But when a glimpse of light is emitted, I see that I wouldn't want to be, couldn't be, anyone else. Because it wouldn't be me. It's a strange paradox that falls purely under logic. If I weren't me, it wouldn't be me.
I have principles, logic. A way of thinking, however broken I believe it to be. It exists, and it gives me judgement. I believe some things are right, I believe some are not. Even when I don't feel like I like things anymore, I'd rather have them than other things. I just don't see myself as being worth them.
And it dawns on me, I'd rather have this than nothing.
Nothing is the absence of pain, of difficulty. Undecidedness, numbness. But it's nothing. It's beyond boring. It's the absence of anything. No thoughts. Not even darkness. Darkness is something, because you realize it's there. It's like that moment when you fall asleep. You never realize it, you never remember it.
It also reminds me of discussions I've had as a child with my dad about trying to figure out what's beyond our universe, if it's finite. That thing we call the néant, or void. What's it look like? "Well, nothing", my dad said. But I insisted, what if I were to look at it? What would I see? Black? Pure darkness? White noise? "Nothing."
That can't be right.
Assume you're staring at the end of the universe. You cut a hole in it. Tear it open. You stare through that hole. What do you see?
I didn't like that. Couldn't wrap my head around it.
And you know what? Years later, when I finally understood what it meant for the universe to be infinite, I was hella relieved. I didn't have to try and imagine that fucking void anymore.
However, the universe is infinite (far as I know), but our lives ain't. And so my dreaded void is still here somewhere.
Yeah, I'm fucking scared of dying. I want to see the universe unfold, that great big story. I want to see galaxies collide, stars fire up and die. I want to understand and know. Life is fucking unjust, you get the ability to understand things, and after a few years of mountains moving a few inches at best, you're gone.
But I understand all this because I live. Because I think, and learn, and love, and hate. Wanting this life to be gone would be a complete paradox.
I dream. I want dreams to be true. That fucking void doesn't dream. I don't want that void. I'd rather have dreams that never come true.
Be okay, Squigs. Break the cycle. Hike up a mountain. Get lost in wilderness. Look at nature, doing its thing without caring a bit about that silly species that asks itself questions. I'm not even talking about plants or animals, that get hurt in the process. I'm talking about mountains, giants moving at billions-of-years speeds. Light coming and going, water evaporating and condensing, laws of physics happening. Stare at our universe. Marvel at this whole thing around us, that created us, that was, that is, that will be. Those things way beyond us. The universe is alive. Even the coldness of space is alive. It is.
The humbleness it commands me fuels my life. Nothing matters at my scale, or any scale. Let's enjoy it and contemplate it.
And give us some news while you're at it.