You see, the thing is, nothing matters.
So why, every single day, do people act like they matter? Act as if things matter? Bother about things. Why aren’t we all dead already? The questions could be written until the end of time. Time. I fucking hate you. You’re the biggest bastard of all. You suck away all the good moments quicker than a flash, and you drag out the worst ones for as long as you like. Because when you put it this way, that there are microbes on us, and we are the microbes of the earth, and our earth is a microbe of this universe, and our universe is the microbe of millions of other universes, then who am I? Who are you? Why do we still care about how our hair looks and how much m o n e y we have in the bank? But of course we do; human nature. Human nature, what even is that? Chemical impulses and chemical reactions. Messages from your brain. Your brain controls everything that you do, say, feel… and everything that you don’t. And who created your brain? Your parents. And their parents created them and so forth. And then it was monkeys. And before that a whole stretch of evolution. And from dust and gas ultimately. The beginning of our universe as we know it. That might not have even been what happened. But we’re pretty intelligent. We can actually think about ourselves, wonder about the stars and gravity and forces beyond our imagination. Imagine different dimensions, colours, visions all in our mind. So imagination, emotions, fantasies, desires, beliefs, all came from one single explosion of heat, gas, dust. How can dust and gas evolve to have all of these attributes?
It doesn’t make sense, fuck.
Why am I writing this when I know that maybe in 70 years, maybe next month, week, tomorrow, tonight I could DIE, and then my entire universe has been broken, crashed, ceased and this will all be just a thought someone once had. When the last person that knew me has died, the concept of ‘me’ will have vanished as soon as it came about. Is anything even real? Or is this a concept far greater for my pathetic brain to even begin to comprehend? When you’re young, you are the centre of your universe, and when you grow older you stretch furth e r a n d f u r t h e r a w a y from that idea. You become a
Just like the b i l l i o n s o f p a r t i c l e s f l o a t i n g around in space that no one cares about. Let me ask something… people with mental health. Are they really the mental ones? What if they belong, or got caught up, in some alternate universe. Their minds have developed in a way we cannot understand. What if WE are the mental ones. What if I’M mental and I just don’t know it. Who even am I?Where is this information coming from? Surely, this is just something inside my mind telling me to write all of this down. Because I’m not doing this. What makes me think to write all of this down? And there are nearly 8 b i l l i o n of us on the planet. Imagine how many minds ticking and overthinking, powering away. For what? Makes me frustrated. Makes me want to flick the switch and cut everything off just because I can. Just for the fuck of it. Just to prove human nature wrong and do the insane, yet completely sane thing. Just finish it.
Kill myself. But there's the irony, you just can't.