I Could Not Survive This World

Maybe you wonder, “Hmm, but you are alive, aren’t you?” Yes, definitely. I am alive. I am alive and writing this article. My heart is beating. But the fact that my heart is beating and my lungs are inhaling and exhaling and my blood is going through my vessels does not mean that I survive this world. The fact that I am NOT dead does not mean that I am alive.

Maybe you frown, “Hmm, but there are thousands of thousands of people in the world who could not literally survive. Don’t you feel sorry for them?” Yes, definitely. I feel sorry for their circumstances. Here, I would make a superficial suggestion: everyone has the fundamental human right. Right? But that does not make sense here. Their suffering is irrelevant to my suffering. Their suffering does not solve my suffering, and vice versa. So, here I focus on just myself. OK?

This world is a nightmare. Being forced to live in this world is undoubtedly torture. Again, you would doubt, “But haven’t you been tortured, have you?” No, definitely. I have not been tortured. I am so lucky that I was born in a place and era where torture does not exist. But again, that does not make sense. I do not want to mean that. OK?

So return to the title. I could not survive this world. For the past 37 years, since I was born, I have been convinced that I managed to survive. I have been blind. I have always thought that I was ten years behind in being aware of something. I should have started to read English books ten years ago. I should have enrolled at UoPeople ten years ago, even though I assume I could not have completed academic learning without AI. I should have been interested in volunteering ten years ago. I should have realized ten years ago that I would not survive this world. Then I would make better decisions in my life.

But I have been alive until now, without being able to make any decent decisions. So my current suffering entirely comes from dumb past myself. That is, indeed, this world is not a nightmare. This world is not responsible for anything. Rather, I am a nightmare. I am responsible for everything associated with myself. Eventually, I cannot help but hope that I was not here.

You must be sick of this article, dislike this stupid, self-pitying author, and be relieved that you were not me. I am, definitely. I am a useless person who cannot stop complaining about everything, despite not making any decent effort in my life. But isn’t it permissible to just express my feelings on this website? See, it is my private garden separated from the outside world.