A Day in The Life of a Nihilist

The more I watch them, the more my stomach curls. Empty-minded, blinded meat sacks filled with electrical stimuli, puttering about trying to draw themselves away from the fact their existence is utterly meaningless. The true beauty lay above, the infinite universe draped in indifference. If only they could realize how beautiful their insignificance was

I take a long pull from the bottle in my pocket, paying no mind to those who are watching me. They don’t even see me, they will never realize that they are the irrelevant layer. They are the misfits put to the side, they are the unwanted. A disillusioned, fake society that thinks just because they have a box they can return to day after day that they are somewhat protected from the truth, but the truth will always find them, and when it does, it will cripple them; they will never have the means of returning to their boxes once they realize they are a lie

Some of their facial expressions make me question my perception of them. The young girl walking with determination and a smile in her eyes, excited about where she is going, excited about where she will find herself. I envy her, she reminds me of a time where I felt I had the power to achieve anything that I wanted, the control to make this world my own. I wonder what she’s listening to, some melancholy track with lyrics hopelessly producing a feeling of nostalgia. I imagine the music becoming a part of her, in sync with every time the bottom of her shoe touches the concrete, her thoughts relaxed and consistent, sporadic yet disciplined.

They can’t all be bad, but they all will be eventually.

The world will inevitably cripple them. I often realize how cynical I’ve become, but a cynic is the most logical conclusion anyone can come to. A cynic is made carefully and slowly, molded over years of constant disappointment. Disappointment in others, disappointment in the world, disappointment in themselves. When they wake up and realize their once feasible dreams were just extravagant fantasies created for the purpose to cope with their hopeless existence, they either find a new normal or embrace the reality that this is one pointless heap of bullshit, and our sentimental moments of happiness and humanity is a type of aerosol spray trying to block out the smell.

I often feel like my head can no longer contain the thoughts that boil and fester within it. At any given moment my skull will crack, and the thoughts begging for freedom will spill out onto the concrete. What is the fucking point of it all anyway? Even if I grabbed one of them, shook them, yelled in their face as I was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, spraying saliva across their face, my hands digging into their shoulder, bruising their arms as well as their souls, no one would listen. People refuse the truth even when someone feeds it to them.

I’m momentarily distracted when I see the officer, the same overweight shitbag that follows me around town kicking me out of all my favorite spots. I tuck my bottle deeper into my pocket, just the other day he poured out my entire pint in front of me. It was the early am’s, my first drink of the morning, my hands were shaking as I passed it to him. He knew what he was doing, he knew what Dt’s were, he knew that vodka was an oasis and I had just been trekking through the desert. He had a look of contentment and pride as he poured it out in front me, pleasuring himself mentally as it pooled on the concrete in front of me.

I watch him adjust his belt exiting the car, his fat stomach rippling as he adjusted himself. When we make eye contact a sadistic smile appears on his face and I want to vomit. Don’t get me wrong, all cops are bastards, but this guy was on a different level.

He comes and stands in front of me, chin up, chest out, hands on either side of his belt as if he was to do a superman pose.

“Hello James, how are we doing today.” He continues looking up and not looking down, every single aspect of his body language demonstrating he sees himself as superior, all the while seeing me as the scum on the bottom of the trash can of humanity.

I don’t respond, just slowly begin to gather myself to prepare to leave.

“You’ve been drinking today?” I’m not in the mood for this. He’s bored.

“Have you received a complaint? Someone call in? I haven’t said one peep since sitting here and none of these people have even paid me any attention, I might as well be part of the concrete.”

“Unfortunately for you, James, you are visible, it’s a sight not so many like to see.”

“Aint no one fucking looking at me. No one is paying me one bit of attention. I’m not asking for money, I’m not talking to anyone. I’m not causing any such problem you are so eagerly insisting I am.”

“That’s the thing, you don’t have to be causing a problem to be a problem.”

“Come on man, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me right now. Can we just not do this today?” I say, almost with desperation.

“Do what exactly?” He says, even looking confused.

“This,” I say, waving my arms out and pointing down, “This nonsensical, bullshit exchange.”

He doesn’t get my point. He raises his right bushy eyebrow trying his best to uncover what I mean.

I throw my hands up and shake my head a bit at him, giving him a quizzical look with a smile on the brink of insanity.

He gets an almost intimidated look on his face, and that is when I realize I am growing more and more erratic, not even realizing I had been laughing hysterically moments ago.

“Just move on your way.” he says, pointing in the direction he wanted me to head.

He begins to walk back to his car, muttering something under his breath that I can make out. I realize I scared him in some way, for a moment I have a small spark of empathy begin to sprout when I shake it away like fly buzzing around my face, if it wasn’t for the confused looks on the the faces of the passer-byers I wouldn’t have realized I was batting at the air around me as if the fly was actually there.

I continue to walk looking down onto the concrete as if I would see my reflection within its cracks. “Just another day.” I say to myself. “Just another lie.”