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The Ideal


In case you're wondering, it's a rant - but a concise one.

Some of my blog posts were on a dark vein lately, so I tried to sum up why.

I doubt very highly that I will ever find contentment, because the things that cause me discontent are unchangeable. It is physically impossible to change them.

But I am resigned that the rest of my life will be a challenge to find the little pieces of sanctity that I can in a universe that has virtually none. Most of that relies on escapism. My life is built around this. Everything I do is focused around ignoring reality as much as possible, but that can only make life bearable, and not ideal.

Constantly having naive people tell me to not be miserable is not really productive either. That would imply it's a choice, and they are usually telling me this out of spite for me, or my ideals. It mostly compounds the issue, because then on top of having to find ways to scrape out contentment in a functionally flawed existence, I get to be reminded of how many people really don't understand what reasons I have to be miserable for.

For different reasons, and to different degrees, people seek and desire fantasy. I am on the extreme end of that spectrum, and I will continue to create it. If only to give everyone somewhere else to go, including me.
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