Darkover
Archangel
- Jul 29, 2021
- 5,040
BIRTH: THE FIRST ACT OF VIOLENCE
No one asks. No one chooses. No one signs their consent. And yet, one day, without warning or permission, we are thrown into the world. A world we did not ask for, a world that did not wait for us, a world that can never guarantee us happiness—only the certainty that one day we will die.
From the moment our lungs open with an involuntary cry, suffering begins. Hunger, cold, illness, fear, despair, loss. We are thrust from nothingness into pain, and the path of life is nothing more than a series of steps leading to the grave. Every experience, every love, every success, every smile is tainted by one unshakable truth: everything we are will be taken away by time.
Optimists sell us the idea that life is a gift. A gift no one asked for. They tell us there are beautiful moments, that it is worth existing for them. But do those fleeting flashes of pleasure justify decades of suffering? Is the ecstasy of one night reason enough to bring someone into a world where they will inevitably fall ill, weep, lose what they love, and, in the end, disappear?
Having children is not an act of love. It is an act of selfishness. They are brought into the world out of personal desire, fear of loneliness, social pressure, or tradition—but never for the well-being of the unborn. Because the only absolute well-being is nonexistence: where there is no consciousness, there is no suffering.
Every birth is a roll of the dice with someone else's life. A macabre game where the prize is an existence marked by chance: it may be prosperous or miserable, but never free from pain. No one guarantees health, safety, love, or peace. And when everything falls apart, when illness arrives, when the terror of death settles in the chest, who will answer for the act of having brought someone into this hell?
Antinatalism is not a pessimistic stance; it is a compassionate one. It is not hatred for humanity, but love for those who do not yet exist—enough love to protect them from the horror of existence. Is it not the purest act of kindness to prevent suffering before it begins?
Let us stop imposing life. Let us stop perpetuating misery in the name of instinct and tradition. This is not about dying; it is about not being born. About not chaining anyone else to the wheel of pain and death.
Because life is not a gift. Life is a sentence.
No one asks. No one chooses. No one signs their consent. And yet, one day, without warning or permission, we are thrown into the world. A world we did not ask for, a world that did not wait for us, a world that can never guarantee us happiness—only the certainty that one day we will die.
From the moment our lungs open with an involuntary cry, suffering begins. Hunger, cold, illness, fear, despair, loss. We are thrust from nothingness into pain, and the path of life is nothing more than a series of steps leading to the grave. Every experience, every love, every success, every smile is tainted by one unshakable truth: everything we are will be taken away by time.
Optimists sell us the idea that life is a gift. A gift no one asked for. They tell us there are beautiful moments, that it is worth existing for them. But do those fleeting flashes of pleasure justify decades of suffering? Is the ecstasy of one night reason enough to bring someone into a world where they will inevitably fall ill, weep, lose what they love, and, in the end, disappear?
Having children is not an act of love. It is an act of selfishness. They are brought into the world out of personal desire, fear of loneliness, social pressure, or tradition—but never for the well-being of the unborn. Because the only absolute well-being is nonexistence: where there is no consciousness, there is no suffering.
Every birth is a roll of the dice with someone else's life. A macabre game where the prize is an existence marked by chance: it may be prosperous or miserable, but never free from pain. No one guarantees health, safety, love, or peace. And when everything falls apart, when illness arrives, when the terror of death settles in the chest, who will answer for the act of having brought someone into this hell?
Antinatalism is not a pessimistic stance; it is a compassionate one. It is not hatred for humanity, but love for those who do not yet exist—enough love to protect them from the horror of existence. Is it not the purest act of kindness to prevent suffering before it begins?
Let us stop imposing life. Let us stop perpetuating misery in the name of instinct and tradition. This is not about dying; it is about not being born. About not chaining anyone else to the wheel of pain and death.
Because life is not a gift. Life is a sentence.
