There is no such profession as a “good person”, but is there such a profession – to be yourself? Is it possible to live oneself exactly as it is in our imagination? To just do what you love when you want. To do what you want and not to do what you don’t want. And so that all this always has resources – monetary, temporary, physical? Does it ever happen in life? I want to believe that yes. Otherwise it would be too sad. My reality is quite fantastic, so why couldn’t this become a universal story?
If people simply became deaf for a while, they would not hear a single sound from outside, not a single word, nor thought, nor condemnation. If people had become blind for a while, they would not have seen any grimaces or ridicule. If people forgot for a while everything that happened to them during their lifetime – all insults, fears, assessments and failures. And they would start from scratch, as if they had gotten a new character in a computer game, where the whole world exists in order to please our most joyful fantasies.
Here you can be anyone and everywhere, you can become whatever you want, everything works out here and there is always time, health and money for everything. You just live your days picking tasty fruits from a nearby tree. Roots grow from the soil, and you can always get drunk from a stream. I love atheism because paradise becomes possible not somewhere outside of mortal life, but here and now without a shadow of doubt and urgency. I’m still reluctant to wait until retirement to stop going to work, so why wait for the next world to live in the paradise of happiness?
Happiness is an illusion, happiness is a fantasy, happiness is a reality. What is reality, if not our feelings? I feel happy if my fantasy comes true around me. And if the fantasy did not come true? Can I even feel the illusion of happiness if I just decide to be happy. Can I control my happiness without chocolate? And what exactly do I need for happiness? I think that paradise would be enough for me. The one who comes from trying to realize his fantasies. Perhaps it is not so important that everything works out as it should. Even if everything goes around, but you tried. Isn’t this happiness?
Is it worth it to get your millions from languid fantasies or just try to get them enough to bathe every minute in happiness from the mere fact that you live your fantasies? And if it fails? Can this spoil the paradise that you yourself built? And if it doesn’t work, there is no result? So there is still time, it’s just a point in the continuum space. Yesterday, a minute ago and now – it has already disappeared. And tomorrow will come, where everything will be different. But only if something is done right now for this.
Crawl snail, you already have everything under carapace!