Libertine

Let's face it. Life is pretty pointless. Between birth and death most people do the exact same things that billions of other people do, things that are essentially no different from the things even the stupidest animals do. Eat, drink, sleep, seek shelter, reproduce, die. There is no originality there, no authenticity, the core of human existence is determistic and mechanical.

Some say that things like love, excitement, friendship, art, beauty, sex, achievement, and other things like that make life worth living. But the only reasons that we value these things are cultural and genetic stimuli - either our genes or our upbringing tell us that we should consider them valuable, and so we consider them valuable. But in reality, they're absolutely contingent. We could value a completely opposite set of things, and it would be equally valid, equally "true". We value what we value because it's valuable, and it's valuable because we value it.

Our true measure of things in life is how we feel about them, and how we feel about life itself. Yet those things are entirely determined by neurotransmitters, and a few pills or a single shot of drugs can change our feelings altogether. Unhappy? Just take one single pill every day, and within a few weeks your shitty life will look all bright and sparkly. Bored? One single pill can send you into blissful ecstasy for the entire night. Introverted? A few lines of white powder will make you feel like the king of the world. Our most basic feelings can be radically changed by simple chemical substances.

And let's look at freedom, or free will. We experience it, believe it exists, and base our lives around it. Yet in reality, all freedom is, is the conscious experience of your brain and body moving towards a certain action. There is no actual alternate choice there, no independent soul that determines your course of action. There is just your physical, determined reality, and a consciousness that is tricked into experiencing this reality as if it were shaping it instead of just futilely riding along.

Now, if that were all, it might be bearable. Being conscious animals, or even machines, with random desires and values, often essentially futile, is undeniably bad, but it wouldn't be as bad as it is were it not for the fact that we are both mortal and subjected to the brute randomness that is life. From the day we are born, we are dying. Death is inevitable and unavoidable, and all our lives consist of is an extremely limited amount of time, which is utterly insignificant on the grand scale of things. Not only that, if even that tiny amount of time is at least spent in a pleasant way is determined by brute luck. Every moment gone is a moment lost, and if fate decides to step on us all we can do is squirm in pain.
There is no logic to it, no rationale, no fairness - a good person can be ripped from life before even reaching adulthood, while a mass murderer may have a long, enjoyable life. Some are born both stupid and ugly, while others are born beautiful and intelligent, and both can have their life shattered at any moment by the most insignificant little thing and be forgotten within decades. Yet death doesn't make them equal, because while the one may have nothing, the other has even less.

Think about it, the next time you are watching tv, working or playing a video game. You are spending time which can never be regained, and for every shitty little thing you do, there is an infinity of experiences escaping you. Ever wondered if "this" is all there is to life? Well, you have your answer. Yes, this is all - your life, your death, everything in between, it's all summarized in the trite, boring, insignificant moments it consists of. And even the very peak of your existence, the most glorious point in your life, can easily be topped by a single shot of heroin.

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