I was left with a very uncomfortable feeling after today’s discussion,
and to be honest, I am still trying to figure out why. I’m going to use this
post to sort my thoughts as a method of therapy, so forgive me if it seems less
school-oriented and more personal.
So, Dostoyevsky has me convinced that I am a vile, spiteful,
incongruous human being, and now he is claiming that all that I know is a lie,
and all that I do not know is the truth. He is making it hard for me to find
point in anything at all. Why strive for knowledge that I cannot achieve? Why
work for goals that dissipate in the end? Why do anything if I am going to,
eventually, die?
If I am striving for advantage in my life, despite it being detrimental
to my being, despite it being detrimental to others, why do I bother? Is it
because I have been told to? Is it because I desire it? Is it worth my while or
a waste of time?
Why do I even bother?
I really want to believe that I should bother because it
makes the lies of “my reality” worth their while.
And I could just
ignore all of this. I could just give Dostoyevsky the finger and not care about
anything that he says and go on with my life turning a blind eye. I could just
say “oh, you reject science? Well I reject you.”
But then would that not make me just as bad as everyone else? Ignoring it all
would allow me to feel better, sure, but I am still ignoring certain possible
truths.
See, it was easy for me to cope with religion not being the
answer to it all because I flat out didn’t have any proof. But everything that
we have discussed in class has unlocked a floodgate of evidence from my past
and present. I cannot help but believe Dostoyevsky’s truths because I have been
proving it to myself all along. I can see it, and I can feel it. It is there,
and it is depressing.
My father always tells me to be proud of my intelligence,
but honestly, I envy the ignorant, because they are blissful.
I hate being a rodent.
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