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Mar 31, 2018
Boredom is a consequence of my problems, rather than being the reason I want to die. Either way, this life is insufferable. As I have mentioned a few times in other threads, my mind is often my biggest enemy.


Full-time layabout
Apr 7, 2018
If there's anything that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that life is a stinking pile of shit, it's boredom. Just another way existence can stick it you, regardless of how gracious the circumstances. Boredom is simply an undefeatable misery. The unique, unbearable agony that will inevitably worm its way into anywhere no matter what. Ultimately showing that pain will always reign dominion here and that everything is worthless. On that note, I'm really fucking bored right now. Sitting here staring at the carpet caught in an unbreakable web of paralyzing dullness & restless disgust with all things. I'm being eaten the fuck alive here. Every damn night it's the same thing. I only wish all this were lethal. Killed by boredom. How fitting that would be for someone like me.

As an aside, nobody sums up the vileness of boredom better than Schopenhauer. The perfect description, for the most awful of sensations.

Life presents itself first and foremost as a task: the task of maintaining itself... If this task is accomplished, what has been gained is a burden, and there then appears a second task: that of doing something with it so as to ward off boredom, which hovers over every secure life like a bird of prey. Thus the first task is to gain something and the second to become unconscious of what has been gained, which is otherwise a burden.

That human life must be some kind of mistake is sufficiently proved by the simple observation that man is a compound of needs which are hard to satisfy; that their satisfaction achieves nothing but a painless condition in which he is only given over to boredom; and that boredom is a direct proof that existence is in itself valueless, for boredom is nothing other than the sensation of the emptiness of existence. For if life, in the desire for which our essence and existence consists, possessed in itself a positive value and real content, then would be no such thing as boredom: mere existence would fulfill and satisfy us. As things are, we take no pleasure in existence except when we are striving after something - in which case distance and difficulties make our goal look as if it would satisfy us (an illusion which fades when we reach it). Or when engaged in purely intellectual activity, in which case we are really stepping out of life so as to regard it from outside, like spectators at a play. Even sensual pleasure itself consists in a continual striving and ceases as soon as its goal is reached. Whenever we are not involved in one or other of these things but directed back to existence itself we are overtaken by its worthless anti vanity and this is the sensation called boredom.

Arthur Schopenhauer - ON THE VANITY OF EXISTENCE


Jun 17, 2018
My reasons:

1. Human beings suck. They're selfish and hostile, unless you're in their tribe or you're useful to them. Being bullied in school kinda taught me this. If you're weak you get fucked by stronger guys in society usually, and you get no pussy. And this is a big problem because I have a large ego and I want respect. I just can't fucking feel inferior. People usually tell me to just accept and play my loser role, but my mind doesn't want that because it knows there's better and I'm better than what they think.
2. This universe sucks. Disease, getting old, physical and mental pain etc. Having to live in a society in which, unless you're born in a rich family and stay high on the pyramid, you'll be a slave of its economy and will have to work 8 hours a day, and then go home and have to take care of your kids etc.
3. Boredom. I spend most of my time staring at the ceiling. There's just nothing I can fucking do. Practice or work to achieve something? Well that's boring too, you only get the fun after you achieve that thing, and then you'll get tired of it and you'll want something else and so on. A man without purpose is like a bird without wings.
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