// Patrick Louis



This is my philosophy of life. I hope it resonates with you.

It’s ubiquitous, we tacitly agree to it.

The anxiety, the stress, the fear, the conflicts, the mystical, the norms, the religions, reputation, we use those blocks to build walls around us.
The cold concrete hurts our hands — We’re proud of our construction. Isn’t it what we are supposed to do?

Jealousy raises according to the size of our pile of rubbish. And the more we stack, the less we see. We raise it until we make our neighbors fade in oblivion. Delusion becomes our habitat, alone in our fortress we divert our attention.

We even want them to perish. We remember the faces but personify our horrible situation unto them. Years pass and the promise of another world is our only consolation.

We know it’s nonsense… The ideas are contradictory and insane… But we’ve just devoted our life to emptiness, it’s void. Where’s the justice? We want it back!

But it’s too late… It’s our own disgusting fault! Slaving; Building our own grave and rotting in its crass until we die.

When I was four I woke up in the middle of the night, jarred and shocked! I walked to my parents and asked:

What happens after death…

Speechless for a while, they finally replied:

There’s still a long time for that.
For the moment try to make the most out of your life.

This carved me. The morbidity of death has been my life fuel. We don’t have a second chance, no retribution, no paradise, no mystics; Only time and what we do with it. We close our eyes and stare at the unknown, our instinct kicks and wants to avoid it. We hold on to the pacifiers, our drugs; We numb ourselves and hope it’ll pass without hurting. Time passes and our mind is appeased, indeed, but it’s our lifetime that has passed by…

By embracing the fear we realize that we should take matters in our own hands.

Let’s reflect on ourselves.

We have the impression of being a composition of things — a thinker inside our head driving a body. Huge misconception.
What are we? What are our thoughts, are we really generating them? Can we think of our own thoughts or are they predefined? If so, can’t we draw the neural paths of others and intervene at the right moments, setting them back on track? We could learn to connect with one another.

The realization of this truth has made you a better person in this instant. The knowledge of ourselves is the only way out of this ready-made culture, the rat-hole.

Choose where to direct your focus. Happiness is your choice.

Stare at the blank screen…

Why are you here if you aren’t doing anything.

Similar idea:

  • Martin Hagglund - This Life: Why Mortality Makes Us Free
  • Terror Management Theory

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