Moonjik

I am questioning the meaning of existence. I am playing a perpetual game of cat and mouse with my youth and sanity. Time is depressing, those fleeting moments of forgetting my true insignificance on a universal scale. History means nothing to the past, reality shall mean nothing to the future, all hope for humanity is lost...it wasn't even there to begin with because humanity wasn't there to begin with. The lifetime of humanity, of all of history, of every piece of art, the discovery of fire, the industrial revolution, World War II, Jesus, is nothing, less than zero in the infinite expanses of time and the multiverse. I see myself in slow motion, descending, spiralling down into this blackhole that is existence, and I wonder, why me? Most people are never born, an infinite number of people are never born. Although, I guess that if our multiverse stretches on to infinity than it would be a physical impossibility for everyone possible to be born never to be born. Think about all those universes where the only difference is that YOU were never born, nothing would be different, life would go on, or in your case, would never exist. Death is inevitable, I do not fear it, I am waiting for my dance with the reaper and expect a good one, like a high school prom only this time I am leaving life, not some fictitious destination of education for the worthless masses. All human beings shall die alone for the earth is the cradle of human loneliness, not a soul is in the company and enjoyment of others because these others are merely projections of a sad fantasy. There will come a time where everyone you knew, everyone you loved, everyone you hated, every human being on this desolate planet, will be no more, a whisper in the cold vaccum of space. Every monument of human greatness will turn to dust long before we are liberated from this fear of our own freedom. The false notions of humanity, of culture of art, language, politics, justice, law are standing on unstable legs and in this vast, infinitely empty universe, there are an infinite number of things you can be doing. Why am I sitting here typing my inevitable fear of oblivion to the world when I could be experiencing every dimension, knowing all the inner workings of the universe while simultaneously being driven mad by the frivolity of it all. For how long are we caught in this existential trap? God is dead, why? Because he never existed, because you never existed. The universe is absurdly meaningless, it has no purpose, it is going nowhere, life dies, back to square one, wipe the slate clean, all of time will never accomplish anything for, no matter how many infinities you have, purpose does not exist and never shall exist. I know that I am a middle-class, white male born in the western world to a prodigious first world-nation, but perhaps THAT is the sole reason for this realization, without the comforts and, ultimately, useless luxuries that western civilization has thrown upon, I would never have realized how hollow the entire existence of anything and everything truly is. I know the inevitability of existential destruction and I accept it, I realize how lucky I am to have the ability to ponder these questions and I shall die, like so many others, not knowing any answers. These soulless forms of entertainment can only distract me for so long until I truly live. Wow...the room I am in is so small, so pointless, so human.

Pleasant dreams.