At 27, I’ve settled into a comfortable coexistence with my suicidality. We’ve made peace, or at least a temporary accord negotiated by therapy and medication. It’s still hard sometimes, but not as hard as you might think. What makes it harder is being unable to talk about it freely: the weightiness of the confession, the impossibility of explaining that it both is and isn’t as serious as it sounds. I don’t always want to be alive. Yes, I mean it. No, you shouldn’t be afraid for me. No, I’m not in danger of killing myself right now. Yes, I really mean it.
How do you explain that?
Ah, good ol’ optimistic nihilism. Other animals don’t give a shit about whether or not there’s a meaning to life - they just do it. We humans have the power to create meaning, enough that our emotions can be affected by mere sounds, words, or the presence of others. Make life mean what you want it to and don’t worry about intrinsic meaning - it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we believe matters.
Funnily enough South Park really drilled this in to me with their imagination land series lol
I never considered Imagination Land to be optimistic nihilism, but I can see it!
I’ve never pondered or looked into optimistic nihilism. but your description hit me right in the face with it 😆
One of my favorite quotes is Nihilists with a good imagination so maybe that’s what tied it all together for me