why I blog?

This is my diary. Unedited, unlabelled, undirected, chaotic, random, dishonest, meaningless, absurd and maybe eloquent - just like life. 

I remember writing the first post for this blog in May 2020. It went like this, “one nihilist is happy that covid-19 has brought the world to its knees.” In retrospect, that was more of a crazy statement than a philosophical one. And it has nothing to do with today.

I write so poorly. And I will say on your behalf that my writing is trash. I write and then I delete. But why am I writing about my writing? You, the wise one must know?

I think about the big questions like, "is there an ultimate reality?" “is she single or not?” But when I start writing all of those profound thoughts and opinions they are rendered redundant by another big question. 

Paradoxically, the deepest question I am struggling with is the question of the deepest question. I know I am going to die someday and it’s so sad.

I wonder if someone in a thousand years from now will remember me. It won’t matter to me but I wonder. I don’t have such ambitions but I wonder. 

What matters most in my life?

Sometimes, before adding new meaningless words to this diary I read the preceding trash and then I spend the next hour trying not to throw up. 

Why I blog is one question but why would anyone read it is another question?

We humans spend our lives trying to make sense of phenomena in our own subtle ways. 

I travelled from Gilgit to Rahimabad on the back of a van. It was biting cold. I know I have tendencies of insanity but there was a person who was travelling like me to meet a Shaman in Nomal. 

He thought his relatives have spelled black magic on his shop. I had a good superstitious conversation with him. Perhaps because when he said what he believed in I became more confident that he was a dimwit and I could talk without him realizing that I was treating him as a subject of my philosophical adventures.

My consciousness is perplexed. I am at the stage of my intellectual life where I am not sure what I should pursue? Should I pursue anything? All the basic existential questions that I once answered for myself are now tormenting me again. Instagram takes my mind off for a bit but when I see a picture of a beautiful girl I start thinking about love and then life and then existentialism. Once a man tastes the profound spices of existentialism there’s no real escape.

I remember hearing “the irrational man” saying, “ our consciousness is bombarded with questions that neither it can answer nor it can ignore”. That is the case.

I insert pictures so you don’t get bored with my words.

My brother was speaking to my cousin in Shina. In his sleep. It's 2:55 am. As I write I realize that this diary is one of my mental states in which I am unconsciously trying to make sense of phenomena. 

I hate that we live our lives trying to unthink the trash that our minds are indoctrinated with. When would we think? 

I have decided that I am not going to procreate. 

I used to think my mother loved me more than my father but recently I noticed that my father is more kind and patient than Mami. And now I regret all those years when I told my father that I loved my mother more than him. Parents’ love for their children is the only true love. All the other forms are selfish. 

I want to talk about anger but I am outraged. 

I have embraced the reality of my thoughts. Which are chaotic, random, absurd, abstract, depressing, and sometimes kinky. I feel much freer now.  I am willing to go wherever my phenomena-lead brain takes me. I, although sense it’s going to be hard for a man living in a society.  

Yesterday morning I had an epiphany. I typed it for you but then I deleted it because I don’t think you deserve to know my deepest desires and ideas. You don’t deserve it because you wouldn’t get it not because you’re a dimwit but because understanding requires relatability and you can’t possibly relate to my thoughts. Neither can I relate to your thoughts. Who are you? 

I am afraid I am not thinking anymore. Probably because I am struggling with a lot of stress these days. And the cherry on top of that is my new infatuation. It’s a girl. She hasn’t hurt me yet in fact we aren’t exclusively in a relationship yet (I am not sure if we'll ever be in a relationship) and I am already enjoying the sweet pain that romantic relationships offer. I don’t know if I want Love or the emotional pain that it entails. 

 I was thinking about what Carl Jung would think of my blog. He would argue that I am so desperate to be understood that I have made my true self available for everyone in the hope of being understood by someone. Yes, I psychoanalyze myself and I know it sucks out the pleasure of life's pain and pleasure.

What if this blog is potential philosophical literature? Can something be a subconscious stunt of the mind and also hold philosophical value or meaning and significance in other events? I know the answer hahaha.  It’s 5:29 in the morning. I wrote today to take my mind off of depression. I have chronic depression.

I write better when I am in love. 

I love my bed. Especially when no one is in my room. My bed is the only place in the universe where I am comfortable. Comfortable even on the most depressing days. My bed is my grave. My pillow is my Kafan. My bed and my pillow make my life bearable. What would I do without them?

I am not always sad and confused. Sometimes I am happy. There was a time when remembering my existence would make me happy but now the thought of potentially being understood makes me happy. I so desperately want someone to acknowledge my existence in a philosophical sense. 

Sometimes I wonder if my philosophy is only a product of unresolved childhood issues. I will never accept that even if the whole universe tells me. It would be so amazing to talk with the whole universe. Literally, I mean. Oneself as an outcasted part of the universe talking with the thing that one came out of. Human ambition knows no limits. And I ask why are we sad?

The year 2017, Sadiqabad, RWP

I am a nihilist and what that means is I am going to make everyone sad. Which I just realized is no different than being a non-nihilist. 

My every attempt to cherish life has failed. I am sinking ever more deeply in despair. 

I know that my death is approaching me and I need to think fast.

I read the blog today. I have changed a lot since I wrote about the preceding days. I no longer desire to be understood. I have killed that primitive desire. It was ego and narcissism and it was sinking me into the gutter of mediocrity. Mediocrity is a diabolical disease that has crippled the object of reason. Contrary to my claim, I will keep writing the blog but I will write not with the weak and cowardly intent of being understood but with the courageous intent of not being afraid of showing who I really am? If somebody understands me in the process, it's a side effect and I don't care about it.  Consider it my expression of disgust against the hypocrisy and cowardice that is running free in society like a virus. Taking responsibility for the condition of existence is of utmost importance in making sense of the subject matter. 

I no longer want love, at least the notion of love that this society holds. I have compromised my principles enough already. Love too was sinking me into the gutter of mediocrity. I will not claim that I saved myself but that it spared me in ignorance. I now loath all that is normal. All that is hypocritical. I can now see the hypocrisy in people ever more clearly. Hypocrisy disgusts me and it won't be ignored anymore even if it is irrelevant to me. Hypocritical people are the pathetic thieves of my world. They are the cheapest pimps in my world.

We are all bad people. The world is overflowing with bad people. If the sun could see, it would have blown itself up to destroy us. In a parallel universe, I am sure such an attempt has been made. 

Bad books, useless knowledge, trivial activities, unimportant issues, bad movies, bad poetry, sluttiness, news, hypocritical relationships, ignorance, cowardice, superficiality, competition, social comparison, the hotel industry, politics, mysticism, arrogance, and many more existence things are my triggers. They are a threat to my sanity. I have decided to keep my life pure from these sicknesses.