Reflections

Despite dealing with lifelong depression, various addictions (cocaine was the worst), and a life that had no direction and thus no accomplishments, I’ve never been suicidal.

I’m too curious about tomorrow.

But when I see where this world is headed, I almost, almost, wish I could be.

I’m an old white man. This world has been ruined by old white men. Our country is being torn apart because white men are losing their privileged status. They’re having to compete with those they’ve grown up thinking were lesser people than them. They were a different color, from different cultures, worshipping different gods. And that infuriates them.

So old white men have become aggressive, bullying, intolerant, violent. They still pretend to hold their old beliefs, god and country. But they no longer listen to their god, and now we see they no longer respect their country. They strive for power and money, because that’s the balm for the pain of reality. They ensure those people not like them can’t get money, can’t get power by keeping them disadvantaged. Shitty schools, lousy neighborhoods, criminalized and demonized. Old white men can only feel good when they’re making others feel bad. They only feel they’ve succeeded by making sure others fail. They’re pathetic, sad, and thankfully, short lived.

Now I can hear the comments already. “But you’re an old white man. Do you hate yourself?”

No, I don’t hate myself. I’m often disappointed with myself, but I don’t hate me. Nor do I hate those other old white men who have managed to get through life standing on their own two feet and not on the neck of others. I admire them, because privilege has tempted them with undeserved success yet they got by on their own wits. They’re able to smile, even laugh, because they’re at peace with the world and their own impending final act. They don’t need others to feel pain for them to feel good.

And I’d like to think I’m a part of that fraternity.