What was I saying.

If being depressed wasn’t such a hell to go through, it would actually be a quite interesting state of mind. I can count the times I’ve had to experience it on one hand: I got lucky, considering the heterogeneous life I’ve had so far.
Nevertheless, these periods are cut in my memory like grooves in an old record. It comes and goes, really. One moment you’re fine, not great but good enough; and the other, the sky turns grey, and the impression that no change is possible is so real, that there really Is no way out.
It’s funny. I’m not sure about anyone else, but in my case, a single word or action at the right moment makes the difference between getting lost in this shit you’re sinking in, and, well, not getting lost. I often say 2 events/people "saved my life" at a certain point, at least my life then, but that would be an understatement. There were actually 3, and it seems all 3 have decided to pop by and stir up some memories and emotions once again.
 
One of them is my last shrink. My father went through quite some trouble to figure out what was "wrong with me", which lead me to believe something was wrong with me in the first place. Psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, I’ve seen it all. I went to a rehab centre for over a year where I had to make puzzles and I still don’t know what I was recovering from. I walked around with wires glued in my hair for 4 days, and a tape recorder tied to my hip, which broke and made the whole experiment a failure. When I asked why, I was told it was because of my "school grades", which were at the time over 80%. I had to do a grade over again, for reasons I’m still not told.
Anyway. Though the means hardly shifted, the goal did. My last shrink, a family therapist, was hired to save our non-existent family. He was the father of my good friend at the time (and a good friend of my father) and had the nickname "Stone". Though he never accomplished jack shit with us, I’d recommend him to anyone, he’s the only man with his education that I know who thinks outside the box.
 
I was in boarding school that year. A place filled with outcasts and problem children, and still, I couldn’t find a single person to relate to. I befriended 2 hooligans, which I hung out with most of the time, but good mates as they were they weren’t the kind to discuss the meaning of life with.
 
Anyway, to the point. There I was, going to see Stone every week, twice a week at one point. I had personally given up on our family by then, but I had my own demons I was more than happy to share with him, for the simple reason that there was no one else to do so. Come to think of it, that might have helped me more than the physical answers he gave me for my questions, and inevitably I came to him one day with The Question To Rule Them All (nerd joke): Why do we live. I had figured most of it out myself already: There might be a reason for life in general, but why we consciously experience our own, which is only a formality and too little a deal to put such complex matter into, he pointed out that I was asking the wrong question.
Shrinks are weird people. Psychiatry is a science, but unlike other sciences they don’t focus on the objective reality, they focus on the subjective experience of it. So he asked me the question that really mattered: "What purpose does life have, For You?" Since there is no logically thinkable reason to give your life meaning, you are automatically granted the priceless gift to give it a meaning of your own, and decide for yourself what you want your life to be remembered as.
 
The shroud was lifted. Suddenly, the world came into view, like a lens suddenly focusing. It opened the door to the line of thought I experience the world with today, and shaped me the person I am today. Whether I’m any good stays in the middle, but I can tell you my mind is much more open that it would have been if he wasn’t around to guide me that single step.
 
I ran into him last week. I was both amused and disappointed to see he hardly recognized me, come to think of it he couldn’t remember my name, even. But that’s alright. We as people don’t matter, to the world it wouldn’t have made a difference if we never met. But to me it would; I owe this man my life.
 
There are two more girls (not counting my girlfriend, who, let’s be honest, deserves just as much credit) who fit a similar description, without a doubt you’ll find me writing about them soon enough.
 
 
 
I was asked about my religious beliefs the other day. It made my day, since I am always intensely interested in religious discussions. When I responded I am agnostic, I got the usual question: What the heck is that.
So let’s get it clear, first: Agnostic, NOUN: A word first used by Professor Huxley, to indicate one who believes nothing which cannot be demonstrated by the senses.
Easy, right? Not perfectly what I believe but it’s the closest. So why do people find that so amazing? I’m sorry, honestly, but I can’t believe in something that doesn’t make any logical sense whatsoever. And fucking YES, I believe evolution makes sense because I did Research on the matter before making up my Own damn mind. It seems like a common theme among those so eager to save my soul: They don’t even know what evolution means, making stupid fucking remarks like "Oh, I’m more evolved than you." Very few have even read the bible, for that matter. They piss about how it’s the word of God and they don’t even know what the word is. It could be a bundle of cast-out Islamic pornography, and They Wouldn’t Know! Can you see the humor? They sure as shit can’t.
 
Anyway, I’m off track. The girl in question, believing in "something" but not accepting the bible as truth (just like about a careful 75% of us Europeans), asked why I couldn’t just give it a shot, "To be sure when you die". Now, I love my life, and no matter how much the knowledge of death coming closer gives me nightmares, I just can not believe there is anything beyond. It’s not Logic. It’s not True. Truth is logic, and the arrogant assumption (because an assumption is all it is) that there is a god, who looks like us (since he made us in his image), picks sides in our wars, and then calls wrath a deadly sin.
 
So here’s what I believe in:
Origin: You consist of matter, 16 billion years old, forged in the very first stars, the first "thing" to be born after the big bang. One-in-infinity chance coincidence has created life and granted us, unworthy and mostly ungrateful little fucks the gift of life.
God: God does not exist as the author of the bible. He doesn’t watch over us; he doesn’t pick sides in war, he doesn’t speak to us. But still, there is an entity around us, surrounding us, being us. The whole of mathematical scheme that draws you and me, the ocean’s ripples, the twinkling of stars.
Afterlife: If you’ve ever been unconscious, try and recall that feeling. Not aware, not mentally here. Darkness. What happens is, our body, captivated for years by our own will, is given back to that inconceivably big whole of formulas and equations, and our matter is dispersed to form the building stones of life to come. In that sense, we have always existed and we will always be remembered.
 
Agnosticism, and the (founded!) belief in logic, can be many times more poetic than the bible, and anything Big Brother had to tell us in the past.
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