HeyJaredThe Sisyphus Club
Here, you will find my short reflections on everyday life and essays on topics such as philosophy and religion.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 28, 2026
Latest issues
To forgive is to return (opens the original)
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We can forgive almost anyone. A friend who has said something hurtful, a late train on a day we can’t be late, the rudeness of a stranger, even the people who have hurt us the most. But, for some reason, we cannot forgive ourselves.It feels like a strange thing to admit, because most of us (I like to think) would consider ourselves to be forgiving people. We give friends a second chance. We give courtesy to strangers who are having a rough day. We tell people that they were young, and that they
Hell Is Being Unable to Love (opens the original)
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“What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.”When was the last time you let someone care for you? I don’t mean the kind of care you could immediately repay, deflect with a joke, or wonder, “What do they want from me?” I mean care that you simply received and did not question. I’ll go first: I can’t remember either.We tend to picture hell as somewhere we’re sent. A place at the end of things, handed out to those who deserve it. But I’ve come to believe that hell, at
The robot killed the working man (opens the original)
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He tells me he did forty years on the line. Shows me the calluses on his hands, and where his penknife caught him when he was nineteen. Turned sixty-five last week.Couldn’t tell you where he worked or what he actually did. He doesn’t care much to share those details. Thinks it means nothing. Tells me a good day’s work is a good day’s work no matter what you do. I don’t think I believe him, but then again, maybe I do.They gave him a card and a handshake. Somebody said a few words, something about
The last person he'll see (opens the original)
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He was doing a crossword in the living room when I arrived. He never looked up. Said hello; I did the same, and then I’d get to work. That was how it was most weeks. It was a small home. One bedroom. One bathroom. It was clean. No need for me, in all honesty. I’d wipe surfaces that didn’t need wiping. I’d hoover rooms that didn’t need hoovered. Took me a while to work out why I was here in the first place. Came to realise he was paying for the noise of someone else being in the house. His back w
Where do the birds go (opens the original)
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There was about six or seven of them flying overhead. Some noise they make. No formation. Just a bunch of black birds amongst each other. They flapped their wings a wee bit more, and then they were gone. Straight over the neighbours roof. “weird things” I thought to myself. Just flying around up there. They’ll land somewhere for a few minutes, then off they’ll go again. It must be nice. No worries. No rent. No nothing. Just flight and food. Complete freedom. The ability to fly wherever, whenever
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