The Jailhouse

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Existential Nonexistence




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Boy Howdy, a person sure knows when life is becoming strange when
a need comes about to rummage through old photographs to be sure
you truly exist.

Today, although for a time I am not sure I truly exist, I am alerted by a
friend of a fun event. A person who gives me grief on a regular basis,
publicly and formally makes an apology to me for his past behavior. He
explains he is wrong about me, explains he is sorry for his past treatment
of me, explains I am right and he is wrong. Most delightful, he explains he
lost all his money making bad decisions on penny stocks, those stocks
which I warned are a scam, which resulted in his filing complaints with both
the SEC and the company, against me. Poor boy, he even followed me
around from discussion board to discussion board to harass me, to prompt
others to file complaints with administrators about me.

Pity the poor boy, says he cannot make his rent, is being evicted, is in dire
straights because he lost all his money playing those stocks which I warned
were scams. He did not listen, he picked up arms and went to war against me.
Caused a lot of trouble for me, had me banished from boards, effected many
torch carrying angry lynch mobs, did all he could to cause harm to me, including
slinging some racial slurs. My oh my, has Bad Karma put the bite on him.

Always turns out that way, you know. When you choose to direct hatred at
others, especially direct hatred at good people, your hatred never leaves
you, rather takes up a filthy home in your heart and in your mind. You end
up filled with seething hatred which slowly eats away any decency you have.

Would be rather fun to provide his public apology for readers. However I am
experiencing existence issues as do most of my articles around this and many
other boards. Goodness, how my well written words strike fear in so many.

At a somewhat popular discussion board, a new rule is in effect. This rule is
my name is not allowed to be mentioned; I do not exist, I am no longer, I am
erased, shipped off to live with Rod Serling in a twisted Never Never Land.
His public apology has simply vanished.

Administrator over there has some reality issues. In archives at his website,
there are about seven-thousand of my articles written over many years. I am
figuring he will spent a year locating and removing those articles, spend
a year erasing me into a figment of reader's imaginations.

His public apology is forever gone, I am erased, sent off to the land of
gray shadows where very existence is uncertain. Such anxieties I now
have, I am suffering, so very depressed I am, so distraught I may not
actually exist. I am suffering the existential nonexistence blues.

I really do exist, I am sure of this, well, fairly sure, I think. Maybe not so
sure. Oh Lord, I am so uncertain, so depressed. I did find some very
old photographs of my childhood, what few exist because we were so
poor, we could not afford a camera. Least I think we were poor, now
with being erased by so many official administrators, I can feel their
official No. 2 Pencil erasers rubbing back and forth on my body, slowly
erasing any evidence of my existence and I can well hear their deep
authority voices promulgating, "Thou shall not utter the name of
the evil one who plagues our minds." Now with my very existence
being erased, I am no longer certain about anything.

Woe is me. I am certainly worse off than the boy who plagued me with
hatred and ended up bankrupt. At least he exists. I am soon to longer
exist, if I ever existed at all.

Cute young girl up there in the photograph. I once believed her to be me
but uncertainty rules my possibly nonexistent mind. She does have that
ornery look on her face reflecting my ornery nature. Maybe it is I am so
ornery, I have created myself simply to be ornery. I really do not know.
I do know, these pencil erasers of administrators are not all that pleasant
rubbing back and forth upon me, not pleasant like the strong but gentle
calloused hands of my husband. Oh, what if my husband does not exist?
Even worse, this would mean our daughter does not exist. This is bad.

Before administrators and their god like powers completely erase me
into nonexistence, I am, somehow, compelled to share a thought. This
thought is, "When you direct hatred at others, you are truly only directing
hatred at yourself, and your hatred will both consume you and rule you."

These existential nonexistence blues are the worst, much worse than
this menopausal stage of life I endure.

Okpulot Taha
Choctaw Nation