Sometimes it's hard for me to put everything into true prospective, because once I do, I no longer feel the ambition and drive for much, besides the pursuit of my own happiness and fulfilling the happiness of others.
A nice house, a prestigious career, it seems so meaningless.
One day, I'll be dead. One day, any and everyone whose life I may have affected will also be dead. One day, any person I've ever known, or any one who's ever heard of me, perhaps read of me, or saw me on TV, too will be dead. The Earth, in fact, will die, one day.
Our buildings, statues and mansions will be engulfed in gaseous flames. Our national boundaries will be blurred and then crumbled. Our history, erased. Our memories, gone.
One day, nothing will matter. Nothing at all.
And yet we worry so much, so hard and so long over things that are comparably ridiculously minuscule. We fight wars and slaughter the innocent over what is effectively nothing. We hate over differences that in the stretch time do not exist.
And we encourage stressful lifestyles, ones that are expensive to acquire and expensive to maintain. Lifestyles that require extensive education, extensive seclusion and elitism, and excessive hardship. Lifestyles that, even at their very best, will not protect you from the inevitable fate of everything.
We cry over pain that will more than fade. We worry over troubles that will more than pass. We agonize over a nonexistent future.
But in the prospective of things, it seems as though we shouldn't have much time for anything but happiness, expression and connection.
Everything will be over soon. Are we really getting what's best out of it?
A nice house, a prestigious career, it seems so meaningless.
One day, I'll be dead. One day, any and everyone whose life I may have affected will also be dead. One day, any person I've ever known, or any one who's ever heard of me, perhaps read of me, or saw me on TV, too will be dead. The Earth, in fact, will die, one day.
Our buildings, statues and mansions will be engulfed in gaseous flames. Our national boundaries will be blurred and then crumbled. Our history, erased. Our memories, gone.
One day, nothing will matter. Nothing at all.
And yet we worry so much, so hard and so long over things that are comparably ridiculously minuscule. We fight wars and slaughter the innocent over what is effectively nothing. We hate over differences that in the stretch time do not exist.
And we encourage stressful lifestyles, ones that are expensive to acquire and expensive to maintain. Lifestyles that require extensive education, extensive seclusion and elitism, and excessive hardship. Lifestyles that, even at their very best, will not protect you from the inevitable fate of everything.
We cry over pain that will more than fade. We worry over troubles that will more than pass. We agonize over a nonexistent future.
But in the prospective of things, it seems as though we shouldn't have much time for anything but happiness, expression and connection.
Everything will be over soon. Are we really getting what's best out of it?
1 comment:
so yea....
this shit was hot.
I always think like this which is probably why most think I have a I don't give a fuck attitude but honestly why should I. ya'know (king just farted and i feel like i am dying as i type this)
Post a Comment