I just don’t feel like writing anymore. This blog has stayed dormant for some time and I still really don’t have much to write about. I’ve just not felt like writing. What am I going to say anyway? What revelation will I come up with that will wow everyone who reads this site? What else can I possibly say that hasn’t already been said? Apathy has gotten the best of me on this blog. Who am I writing for anyway? Are there even people out there anxiously awaiting my next post? For the most part, I feel like I’m talking to myself. And what’s the point of that? Maybe it’s the fact that life may not even have a point. The only point it has is the ones we dream up. The socially conditioned ones. We are told how and what to think our whole lives and discouraged from expressing ourselves in any other way. We are told what is right and what is wrong. But all of that is subjective and completely made up. Everything just is.
What kind of world is there supposed to be anyway? And who am I to tell anyone how to live their lives? The universe is a place of such vastness that we know so little about that there is no way we could accurately know how we are supposed to live. All I know from direct personal experience is that the way we live today is wrong. But what can we do about it? How do we find the right way to live? Is there even a right way to live? What would be the point of discovering the right way to live? What would it mean against the backdrop of the cosmos and the timeline of infinity? No matter what happens, in a trillion years there will be no trace of it. Sure, we can live for today, but isn’t that kind of short-sighted?
This world we live in is full of life. Who knows how many other planets have the same diversity we do. But so what? Is that something special? Is this world so much better than any of the other planets just because it is lucky enough to be far enough from the sun to sustain life? Or is it dumb luck that we are even here in the first place? Our planet got lucky. And over billions of years, we got to this point where one species dominates all the others and monopolizes every square inch of land. We are here and have complex brains capable of doing things no other species can do.
“We are the middle children of history with no great war and no great depression. Our great war is a spiritual one. Our great depression is our lives.”
The whole universe is here and we are but a very, very small cog in a gigantic machine. What is the machine’s purpose? I do not know. I cannot know. There is no way to know. We are born into this world clueless, without any knowledge of why we are here and we spend our whole lives trying to figure it out, but what if there is no reason? What if it all is just one big random coincidence? What if it was one big random accident? Like the accident of agriculture. The whole universe could be a colossal mistake, but we would never know it. There are so many unanswered questions that nobody can answer. How can we be certain of anything? How do we know what we think we know? Is it all just one big illusion? What is the nature of existence?
I’m just trying to think through all of this here and since I pretty much write for myself on this blog, I’m going to continue doing this.
We live and die for our beliefs, but how do we know that they are accurate beliefs? Most of the wars fought around the world are about belief systems crashing or simple domination. It all seems so trivial against eternity, though. Time keeps on ticking even when we are not aware of it. Even before time, there was still life and there will be life after time. Even if it is not measured, time is still experienced, but in a different way. The dinosaurs had no concept of time other than the present and the recent past. Time is but an illusion, but at the same time it does exist regardless of if we know about it. Everything changes over time. Everything from the smallest microorganism to the universe. But it is all the same. It is a universal law.
This is a very disjointed and erratic post, but I like it this way. I’m not going to let anyone or any writing class tell me how to write. I’m not going to be the standardized essay format. Sorry, but that’s just not me. I’m not going to think by society’s rules. Sure, I may use their words, but how I place them is up to me. I’ve forgotten how liberating it is to just let ideas flow and not have to frame them into complete paragraphs. It just feels natural to think something and let my fingers start moving. Being a writer is nothing special. Anyone can write. A writer is simply someone who writes. No matter how poorly by social standards the writing is, it is still a written work. A piece of art. Unique.
Anyway, I guess I’ll call it a night. I’ll try this again another day and see what else comes out. Good night.
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