L
Langdell
Guest
When I was an atheist, I frequently wished I’d never been born. It was almost my constant state of mind. I don’t feel that way anymore, however, because now I have HOPE.
How can you be as dumb as you say, when your English is so clearly superior to dozens of people, including many here on this forum? “Cognitive mediocrity” sounds like a circumlocution that would proceed from mine own mouth, and I’m one of those “most talented amongst us” according to the standardized scales.
The only things I can imagine are: you either vastly underestimate yourself, or you have a learning disability that affects your ability learn repetitive tasks in some way or hinders acquisition of crystallized intelligence or some specific measure of performance ability, but doesn’t negatively affect your general fluid intelligence (in which case professionals may be able to help).
:thumbsup:Your post makes us even more aware of how privileged we are!Seeing as I could have been aborted, but my biological mother instead placed me for adoption, I never regret having been born. My bio. mother told me about the girls from her home town who aborted around the same time she realised she was pregnant with me…
It strikes close to home for sure. Life is hard, it can get harder, but I’m glad I’m alive.
Ask me in the next life and I will give you my final answerTo any extent?

“Rumors of angels” are what one writer called these little ecstacies.To continue along the lines of what Khalid wrote in his last post: watching *It’s a Wonderful LIfe *at Christmas, gazing at countless stars in a pitch-black sky, drinking cold water when one is really thirsty, the prospect of eternal bliss with the Trinity to behold and all of our deepest aspirations satisfied, the distant memory of this vapour of a life when time has given way to eternity, those are almost enough to tip the scale
Very clever and wise answer, in the final analysis, eternity is really all that matters.Ask me in the next life and I will give you my final answer![]()
Beautiful expression.“Rumors of angels” are what one writer called these little ecstacies.