Joining a club is a great way to experience existential despair.
“All right, everybody, this is very exciting. Welcome to the first meeting of the ‘Contemplate Your Own Death For A Few Moments’ club. Thanks for coming!”
“Thank you, Cheryl.”
“Let’s get right down to it. Did everybody do this week’s assignment? Did you all stare directly into the face of your own mortality?”
“Yes.”
“Yup!”
“And what did ya’ll think?”
“I didn’t like it.”
“Me either?”
“That’s OK, that’s part of this. What part of it didn’t appeal to you?”
“For me it was the numbing chill that seemed to run to the very core of who I consider myself to be as a person, dissolving any sense of ‘meaning’ that I have built over the course of my short life.”
“Good points. Alice?”
“For me it was the part where I had the sickening realization that children are the only way we are able to perpetuate ourselves and I’m now too old to have children so the rest of my life will effectively involve slowly breaking down until ‘I’ simply cease to exist that didn’t really appeal to me. I found it a little…I donno…sad.”
“All right. Well, personally I thought it was really good.”
“Did you actually do it? Did you spend a few moments contemplating your death?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Do it now.”
“OK… nnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggghooooo. No no no no no no no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no no no there is nothing. There is nothing at all to hold onto. I’m sliding into a deep dark pit and I can’t grab anything to slow my fall.”
“Good meeting, ladies. Again next week?”
Text by Shirt.Woot
