Life.
Wake up, go to school, get through my classes, come home, go to sleep.
Why?
I don’t accomplish anything.
Nothing lasts forever.
Relationships don’t matter.
Marriage doesn’t even matter.
It’s just one step further then a relationship.
What does it mean when you’re dead?
Why do people believe things they don’t know are true or not?
Why do people have to make up theories to make them feel better?
Oh hey. I’m just going to believe in God now.
You don’t know if he’s really there.
There are too many different "gods".
There are too many religions for just one to be true.
How do you know which one is true?
YOU CAN’T.
We all just want to think what everyone else thinks.
We all want to believe in the positive.
Life is dumb, it’s pointless.
You work hard, face problems, cry, laugh..
It’s not important in the end.
You just live until you die.
You don’t know what you’re living for.
You work, and work, and work.
And you don’t even know what it’s for.
You don’t know why you live.
What if it’s not even important?
What if there is no life after death?
What if there is just another life just like this one?
Why can’t we know?
Why do we have to feel?
What does it all mean?
Fear. Hate. Happiness. Love. Jealousy. Faith.
Hope.
Hope of life after death.
Hope that there is a god.
Hope that there is a god. The god we specifically believe in.
Are we right? Are you right? Am I right?
Why can’t we know?
Why doesn’t life come with an explanation?
Why do we live?
What’s the point?
What is the point of feeling?
We have relationships to feel good about ourselves.
To feel appreciated.
To have fun.
Does it mean something?
Does it bloom into something more important?
Friends, close friends, boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife.
Does it matter?
No one really knows you except you.
You don’t even know you.
You don’t know what you are.
You don’t know what you have.
You don’t know why you act the way you do.
You don’t know why you think the way you do.
Why can’t we know?
We’re not good.
Our species, human beings, are not good.
We understand things.
Effects of things.
Reactions of things.
And still.
We kill each other.
Humans, animals, hearts, souls.
We like hurting.
Why else would we do it?
What are we?
Animals have it easier.
They don’t know.
They rely on instinct, or so we think.
WE. US. HUMANS.
We’re just so damn important.
We’re better than others.
Better than other species.
Better than others of our species.
We’re all alone.
Each and every one of us.
We’re born one person, alone.
We’ll die one person, alone.
And yet, life is so important.
It’s a blessing.
It’s life.
Wonderful. Miraculous. Amazing. Special.
Each one of us lives a separate life.
We live.
Separate. But together.
We’re similar.
We have similar experiences.
Similar thoughts.
We’re designed like that.
Designed?
So now we’re like robots.
Why are we here?
Who created us? Designed us?
What created us? Designed us?
Why can’t we know?
Our looks are becoming the most important part of our world.
They have been for quite a while.
Black, white, skinny, fat, tall, short.
What if we couldn’t see?
What if what we’re seeing isn’t right?
Isn’t what we’re actually seeing?
Who decided we have to look good?
If we couldn’t see, you wouldn’t know what looks good or not.
You wouldn’t know.
I could write a zillion pages on this shit.
Should I?