The Very First One Ever



Everyone in my age group wants to be special. And hey, who doesn’t?

On Tumblr, there seems to be this ongoing debate on the number of genders and new genders are invented every day to describe how someone approaches their sexuality. From a logical perspective I find this bothersome. I feel like it convoluted the actual meaning of gender. Common folk don’t distinguish the different between sex and gender. It is one in the same, where biological sex determines if you are male or female. Gender is what you, as a person, identifies as. And to be completely honest, people don’t give a rats ass about your gender. Are you male? Are you female? The end. These special snowflakes get offended if you don’t pander to their need to be unique. “You misgendered me, and I’m offended.”

No one cares. No one is impressed by your attempt to disguise your ubiquitousness.

It seems like people in my age group use these little things — gender, otherkin, etc… — as a balm from the unwavering truth:

You are not special. You are not unique. You are average. You are nothing. You are nothing but a statistic.

But, if it makes you feel better. That, at least to me at this moment in time, has no discernible purpose.

In the biological sense, I still have yet to reproduce and send my DNA out into the world. Then I remember I have a genetic disorder that makes my thyroid go on strike, and with all the bullshit it’s put me through, do I really want to hoist this albatross on someone else? Also, I didn’t really win the genetic lotto. I don’t even think I hit two numbers on that one. So, purpose is to give this thyroid disease, unmanageable hair, terrible skin, and hook nose to someone else and let them have to deal with the social, biological, and mental reproductions.

Sure… I’ll be the sadist.

I make myself sound like a German Mountain Troll… but it’s not far from the truth.

So, reproduction — off the table.

Not religious, so the singular purpose in my life won’t be worshiping some neolithic sky god.

Helping others sounds promising. And then I remember that people, as a general rule, suck.

So… right now, my purpose in life is to work 40 hours (maybe overtime) to pay for a place I only use to sleep and store my stuff, gas, electricity, food, and cats.

Okay. I can do this.



2 thoughts on “The Very First One Ever

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