Work Text:
Unfortunately, my friend, our mind — though I won't speak for everyone — has a habit of forgetting sensitive details and erasing from memory the emotions we experienced at a particular moment. You may remember the vague outlines of the feelings a book stirred in you, but they ultimately blend into a single lump from which you can try to extract the essential parts. But I don't want to talk about the properties of our memory. Right now, I want to tell you about my fresh impressions of George Orwell's book titled *1984*.
Like many works of art, this book evokes a storm of emotions. Yet there is something in it you definitely won't encounter in many hastily written stories, even if the fate of the heroes is painfully tragic. The book describes that sense of panic and helplessness which can only be conveyed through something magical, such as words. Books are certainly blessed by something from above, although perhaps that "above" is merely the human mind, which is multifaceted.
You worry about the heroes of the story, don't you? Obviously, you do. We all feel sympathy for those we read about. That's how our psyche is wired, though it isn't always the case. To create a hero one wants to sympathize with requires a certain style — one that produces not a rag puppet of the plot but a living personality with their own struggles, one who is worthy of our support and also in need of it. A person supports only those who benefit their self-esteem or spark a feeling of pity. Orwell masterfully creates a portrait familiar to all of us, in which we can recognize ourselves or those who will come after us. That is why we want the characters to be alive. They are us, or what remains of us.
I must also tell you that this book has a particular effect on those who directly associate themselves with the characters, and for that you don't have to be rich, though that doesn't exclude the possibility of sympathy. Nevertheless, the narrative that books tell about wealthy people with power is not at all the one any powerful rich person in our society would wish to behold. But what about ordinary people? Obviously, the book chose a perfect character for the role of its hero. Precisely the one its reader is. The average person. He has never been rich, and thanks to his daily work, he has never felt poor. Although that very poverty is understood in comparison with other elements of society, the essence always remains the same. The average person, like no other, has the ability to comprehend the thoughts of another average person and sympathize with them. Uneducated people lack the ability to understand what is written, and the rich lack the desire. Average people, in their lives, try to find enjoyment in the things available to them and also possess sufficient literacy to grasp the thoughts presented in books.
I will not reveal the main essence of the book or its plot, but I will only say that it is worthy of being read in the fullness of its meaning. Though it may seem too cruel or too truthful to you, that is the price an educated mind pays for the awareness of reality and a glimpse into the inner workings of society, even if it exists not in the world in which they live.
Good mood and pleasant time of day to all. I hope you read many works that resonate within you.
---
Life is a theater.
Tell me, have you often had to lie? And do you consider lying to be vile and wrong? Why is that? Lying doesn't always lead to a bad outcome. I'll give an example based on my family. Forgive me this frankness.
My parents often tell me to do something. Tell me, what would a simple person do in my place? There are obviously two options: 1) do as they ask, even if you don't like it; 2) challenge their decision and enter into a conflict of interests. I hate arguments that happen in my life, whether they are arguments started by me or by someone else. Though, I must be honest, I don't hate all conflicts. Sometimes they bring me joy when I am able to defend my point of view, but generally, such disagreements only bring headaches to both sides and a deterioration of relations.
I prefer to do things my own way in order to satisfy the needs of both sides. In situations where there is no supervision over the execution of an order, one can ultimately give an affirmative answer that satisfies the person without actually doing the task assigned to you. Obviously, this comes with the risk of being discovered, but if you play your cards right, you get to do what you wanted during the time allotted for the task, and the other side will be pleased with the completion of the assignment.
In such an approach, the main thing is to have enough information to give an incomplete report on the work done while sounding credible enough that your lie doesn't appear too contrived. You must not only satisfy the client's desire but also prepare a plan of excuses in case your lie is exposed or your deception is not believed.
It can be difficult, but in the end, the satisfaction of both sides is worth it. I am happy, and my parents are pleased with me as an exemplary and smart son who completes the tasks assigned to him.
Tell me, what do you think they truly want? You will obviously say, "They want you to complete tasks and become more experienced/smarter." You will be right, but only halfway. Has the thought not occurred to you that it's not the fact of completing the task that matters, but the feeling of receiving the result? When you live in a sense of rapture from a job done, you are always happy. There is nothing better than finishing work. It's not so important to a parent whether you did your part of the bargain or not. What matters to them is what they hear from you and what they see. The main thing is to feed their confidence in their own competence while receiving in return their care and the well-being they share with you.
Parents are a valuable resource in our lives. They provide emotional support and also spend money and time on preparing food, paying for housing services, transportation, and so on. It is always better to maintain positive relations with parents, as this comes with their voluntary sponsorship of your life. They are comparable to investors in a small company, and to keep investors interested, you need to show them reports that don't always have to be truthful. The main thing is that they deliver what the sponsors want to see from the enterprise.
I think that's all. I'll pose a final question that comes to me for anyone who has read my article. What are you willing to give up for a wonderful world where you get what you want? Are you ready to remain in ignorance? To lie? To betray your loved ones? Many will answer that, of course, they would not do such things... But this question cannot be asked on paper. People will always hide behind their good-heartedness, their benevolence, and their image in the eyes of others. People will never admit to the hypocrisy that constitutes an enormous part of their soul. You don't know that you are already subconsciously choosing ignorance in order to live in a world that is pleasant to you. That is how propaganda works in our world, as do those who unquestioningly heed it.
---
And so, I have nothing to do in this lesson, so I'll describe my feelings. Notes of a madman, right? Heh...
I think a lot about myself and sometimes talk with others on these topics. Well, "talk"... I write messages. One-on-one conversations or in large groups put me in a stupor in about 80% of cases. Especially when I'm not talking with ____. I don't know why, but with him I don't feel the speech viscosity that is often characteristic of me. Perhaps it's easy for me to talk because we discuss various topics I know well and am passionate about. That's why I think he is my best friend. Possibly my only one, but that depends on how you understand the concept of "friend." ___ is also my friend, but it's hard for me to talk with her for long. I can't find the words within myself to sustain our dialogue or come up with something else. Maybe we're not friends. Or we are. It's complicated, as I said before.
But there are other people. In my class, there are people I like. There are also people I dislike. Obviously, there always are. Mom says that such people are born from a lack of care and can be re-educated. Or rather, conditions of abundant love must be created for everyone so that such people are not born. I don't know. Maybe I should pity them, but why? How am I supposed to be a saint when, at every word from such people, a simple thought arises in my head: "Die and disappear from my life." I believe that the death of such people is a righteous thing. It won't make the world worse, because to me... The world isn't too important. Why do people think our life is important? Everyone says: "You must study, find a good job, and start a family."
Who writes the commandments? Who forces us to live a "proper" life? And why? Our life can change our society, but is it worth it if the same thing will always remain in our souls? We can make the world a little better, save thousands of people. But if people will always be greedy and cruel, and the world will be full of idiots and ruffians, then what's the point?
I want to live a quiet life. I don't care who I become. I just want to live without encountering such worthless people in my eyes. They drive me crazy. And I hate them. But I don't want to step over myself.
Mom says it's laziness. Laziness speaks within me. I agree. But my laziness is stronger than me. Why? Because I understand that I can start fighting it, but I'm against it. I don't want to.
I'm not going to fight myself. I'll just find a quiet job. Maybe I'll live alone. I want to live with someone, but without children. I don't want children. I don't want to have an offspring. My genes, my character, my weaknesses should not be passed on to another. They should not remain in this world. My existence is a sin.
That's why I want my life to have no impact on life at all. I want to die without any remnant of myself. To vanish without any trace. This should be frightening, but I find something pleasant in the fact that no responsibility rests on me.
Sometimes I think: "Why do others behave so strangely? Do some simply not understand norms? Or do they not think about them? Why do people think about murders? Why do people hurt others? It's not normal. Obviously, it's trauma. But why don't they realize they're traumatized? How can a sick person think of themselves as healthy?"
I don't understand many things. I thought I was smart. I thought my grades placed me on equal footing with smart people, but it turned out to be a lie. A blatant lie that my mind built around itself to make me believe in a better future.
But I'm stupid. Maybe I understand how to behave in society, but I'm still stupid. I'm not worthy of a good position. A rich house. A happy life.
I'm an idiot and I don't want to change. The Lord has cursed me. Maybe I'm a believer. Maybe not. I don't know who I am. I just want to enjoy life.
I am a huge heap mixed from self-analysis and various human vices. I hope a random rocket kills me. I hope a stone falls on my head and kills me.
I want to die, but I don't want to kill myself. I want my death to come quickly. Unexpectedly. But I will accept it. After all, I deserve death. And freedom. Freedom from responsibility. Freedom from work, freedom from studying. From grades, from money. From society. Freedom. I want freedom.
Someone kill me. Shoot me in the head. Please. That is my main hope.
Don't worry, I won't kill myself. I'm afraid of pain. I don't want to force myself to feel pain. Just do it for me. Rid the world of the trash in my form.
I will live. But I am unhappy until I find something that is not real.
A conversation, an argument, a show, a game, a painting, a story. I want to lose myself from the real world into one where I don't have to do anything. I love reading, for I am required to do nothing.
Just make me observe an endless stream of stories without any influence. That will be my paradise. Paradise for a sinner.
Maybe I'll become a believer in order to see paradise after death. I want to believe that I will be able to see paradise. A paradise that will demand nothing. A paradise that will impose nothing on me.
If I had a firearm, I would kill myself. I believe death by a bullet is fairly painless. If you shoot in the head.
Sometimes I think: "What will happen if a pistol appears before me? Will I take it or not?"
When I read this, I think: "It's all because I'm a teenager. I'm not serious. Everything is fine."
It irritates me. I can't be sure of my thoughts, because something beyond my control influences them. My body. My age. It influences me. I hate it.
Give me control over my body. Over my thoughts. I want to be myself, not a collection of influences.
I want to share happy moments, but I want my interlocutors to be happy. I suffer, for I cannot give them happiness in the quantity they deserve.
"Maybe it's my ego? I want to be a part of something, after all. Do you really believe you're worthy of being part of their conversation?" I ask myself. "You're not right," I say.
I live in one place. I run in one place. I scream into one place. I am one place. An old place.
That's all. It all comes down to one thing. Always. All my dialogues with myself... Or monologues? They're all the same. They all lead to death and hatred.
---
Humanity, from the moment of its appearance, has needed a supernatural belief in something higher than themselves. Gods are only one of the names for that force which humanity wished to worship. Everywhere one can find traces of that dependence which the human mind so vividly accepts in its being.
Of course, it's easiest to begin with ancient times, when religion was only just emerging in the consciousness of people. We cannot say for certain, but it's worth assuming that at that time it still possessed a share of honesty among all layers of people. Both chieftains and common folk believed in an invisible force that needed their sacrifices and prayers. No one used it for themselves. People were merely trying to find answers to questions that couldn't be resolved with their meager knowledge of the world.
Later, with the development of human society, religion began to take on more concrete forms for the ordinary person and more explicit functions for the state. Certain "commandments" or rules appeared, established by specific people who were most worthy of the position of the person closest to the deity.
The masses, raised on the concept that God is alive and watching, were loyal to those who spoke in His name. They accepted new decrees, even though those didn't always save them from breaking those laws. Still, rulers managed to create a new tool of suggestion for ordinary people who needed faith in something, as well as guidance.
Of course, like any righteous thing created for the good of people, it was consumed by greed. A stable system could not always rest solely on the desire to make the world better. Those who wanted more began to use it for their own benefit.
The most obvious examples of such manifestations are the Crusades. In the name of a sacred entity, thousands of people died for the seizure of territories. The hand of man turned against his fellow man. War became the master of faith. And from this began the decline of sincerity.
Without a doubt, millions of ordinary people still believed that God was righteous and that their prayers reached the most high kingdom. But the fact is that power had already sensed the benefit of that tool, which previously had only instilled unspoken truths for a stable life.
The intentions of certain people began to be wrapped in the golden covering of divinity and presented as a holy cause, when in reality they were merely sin. The very thing faith had fought against from the moment of its full realization in society.
Yet still, the essence of faith remains the same. Humanity, which was unable to find its path through life, needed a set of simple prohibitions and nudges in one direction so that their feet would not lead them off the bright trail.
The state tried to take advantage of this effect, instilling its own truths through children. Convincing them that grandiose words about patriotism are an indicator of truth and undeniable kindness toward the people.
Why does this happen if humanity has proven it can exist without faith as well? Although it is an important part of our life, in the name of progress, it was cast aside like a fragment of the past. Nowadays, many people are capable of understanding what should be done and what shouldn't thanks to logic rather than another's hint. The non-interference of higher powers has shaken belief in their existence, and the mass use of the people for unrighteous deeds has only entrenched this schism.
In my opinion, the easiest way to discard any echo of past faith is the entrenchment of education among all residents of the state. For certain individuals who wish to propagate their values through divinity, this may sound like something unnecessary and contrary to their goals.
If worthy institutions of education are established among the people, there will no longer be a need for others' directions. Humanity is fully capable of creating its own signposts. Previously, priests were among the most educated estates and were therefore given the right to convince others. Now, thanks to the spread of learning, every person can become a priest for themselves and see that the teachings of faith were never something beyond comprehension. The existence of God Himself is not necessary if logic can replace Him entirely.
This does not exclude the need for moral guidance for those unable to find their path in the early stages of life, but for that there are professionals who should examine individual cases personally rather than allowing them to become a mass of similar questions and answering them with a single word.
---
Our life, in its essence, is merely unceasing motion... Although no. There is a stop. In our case, it is a wall directly before the train, into which we are driving without the ability to press the brakes or leave the rails.
Sometimes people say that life has some hidden meaning. They may mean various things: duties placed upon them by God, the desire to achieve success in life, and so on.
Personally, I believe that my life is quite simple in its essence. I do not wish to become world-famous, to have power, or responsibility over people. I wish for my life to remain worthless compared to the rest of the world. The tasks I set before myself are to find a kindred soul and a stable income. My life is full of temporary hobbies that replace one another over the course of years.
Why leave children behind? Why take on unnecessary responsibility? Is there anything that can force you to do so if you personally don't want it? Does anyone's opinion carry sufficient weight?
If you torture a person or take away their ability to exist, they will accept any responsibility upon themselves. The thing is, the responsibility you accept must always be less than what you could have in another scenario.
Life is a series of buttons. "Yes" or "No." Which one will you press? Will you risk and take on a new burden for the sake of a reward? Or will you refuse? But it's your personal choice.
The question I ask myself is: "Do I need children?"
Will it be worse for anyone if I don't have them? Perhaps only emotionally, because their imagined "lineage" doesn't continue through me. Perhaps my child would bring joy to my parents, who by that time would already be quite elderly people. But is it worth loading myself with the care of a child merely out of a desire to please my parents?
I believe that by taking away from them something as insignificant as the chance to see my child, I am not plunging their life into mourning. They still have their own choices. The ability to travel, to enjoy the creations of humanity, to get pets.
By limiting life to children alone, we place ourselves in an endless cycle of childbearing. It is by this principle that unhappy families are created, incapable of realizing the strangeness of their desire to bring a child into an environment that is definitely unsuitable for one.
Is it important that my wife and I will not have children? To whom could this be important? The state? The world? If one looks at the global essence of things, a negative increase of two people will not signify the extinction of the human race in a global sense. My choice also has no worthy influence on the population of our state or its future.
All other arguments stem only from the proverbial possible skills of my child, grandchildren, and so on. If I don't bring someone great into the world, so what? But what is the chance that this particular child will achieve something great? And must it necessarily be my child?
These are all hypothetical questions for which we have no answers. To burden oneself with the care of a new life until the end of one's own cannot be worth finding the answer to this question. Moreover, what if the answer is not what you had hoped for? What if your child does not bring goodness or improvement to the world? What if they kill someone? Is it necessary to give the possibility of an infinite number of variations a chance to exist merely because some of them might be useful to our society?
—————————————————————
Having written this, I begin to think that perhaps all my words are merely an unconscious manifestation of the fear of responsibility that I, as a teenager, display before something as important as a child.
Still, I suppose that when I grow up and reach a certain acceptance of my position in society, I will be able to change my view of the world, and especially of the presence of children in my life.
I accept that observing a new personality, created from the merging of traits of myself and my spouse, will be fascinating. Perhaps attempts to instill certain fundamentals in this small child will produce a worthy person in our society.
There still exist possibilities that they will not live up to my expectations, but like any other probability, that is only one of the possible outcomes. If you think about every variation, you will only cause yourself unnecessary worry.
---
My Mental Problems
Today, when I was given the opportunity to talk about the psychology of the people around me, I began to think about myself. Over the course of many years of my life, I have observed my own reactions to things. To what makes me happy, what makes me cry, and what makes me angry.
I am always looking for something to lean on. This support can be different. Since childhood, my support was the fact that I was academically smart: I got good grades, was praised by teachers and parents. I began to think I was superior to many. That I was better than others. And so it was.
But I was wrong. Finding myself in the company of people who spent time and effort on developing themselves, I saw my own insignificance. My weakness, my laziness. Then I cried. I wallowed on my bed and cursed the world. It seemed that those who had elevated me onto a pedestal had lied. My hopes, my pride collapsed.
But what did my subconscious do? Did it recognize that all people are equal? Or maybe it told me to study harder? To spend time developing my knowledge? So that the place I had previously occupied would be mine by right?
Not at all. I simply began to revel in my helplessness, using it as a pretext. "Why should I develop myself if I'm worse than them? If my place is at the bottom? Behind them?" It seemed my laziness knew no bounds.
But my mind found a new niche while I lived. A new opportunity to exalt my meager life above others. It's easy to change the abstractness of "morality," but in our time, it has acquired certain key traits for determining its positivity.
I covered my wounded ego with good-heartedness. I began to think I was better than others simply because I wanted happiness for the majority. But did I truly want that? Or was I lying to continue believing in my own superiority?
The music I listen to; the games I play; the words I speak and think — all of this is my sincere desire to be better than others. Beauty, power, faith, attention... All of this finds resonance in my heart. Cold claws of envy and greed.
Speaking of elevating people and seeking correct truths, I forget that deep in my soul, I myself hope for the gratification of my animal desires. My vices.
I hate it when someone's attention is fixed on another. I dislike when I'm neglected; when another is chosen; when I'm not allowed to speak. I want to believe in my own importance to the people around me. For the sake of feeding my ego.
Even when talking to my close friend, I think about how much he needs me. I think about how I am important. I rejoice that someone depends on my company.
But I have taken a small step forward. I have admitted that I, too, depend on my friend's company. No less than he depends on me. Do I feel revulsion in saying this? Perhaps, but now I feel only a strange mixture of sadness and pain.
I know what makes me the way I am. I know it. But do I want to change it? I can pontificate about self-improvement, but do I actually do anything? I simply continue to be the way I am. I watch as my inner world changes but doesn't become better. I put no responsibility into it. I don't change myself. I am only waiting.
It's sad. Help me. I read, I write, I continue to study, but am I becoming worthy of my place?
Hahahahahaha. I laugh when I feel bad. I laugh when I'm in pain. Laughter helps me forget my feelings. I feel that by laughing at the world around me, I become above it.
I love pretending to be God. My characters, whom I created and with whom I converse — are Gods. They sometimes give me advice, but I don't listen. I think there's a little piece of divinity in me too. I believe I can become better than others.
I use superiority over others so as not to feel pity. So as not to feel anything for those beneath me. For those who are worse. I try to feed my ego while I bring everyone around me down.