So I quite literally never stop working ever. I am in school, and strive to get six hours of sleep a night, which does not always happen, because I am endlessly playing the game of life. I am painfully aware that this is a game. That this is a social construct to give our lives purpose, when in reality, we a reparably purposeless. Realistically, I do like to pretend that their is a reason we are here, because there has to be some sort of reason for everything right?
No, not really.
I think about how every single day I could just die. I could have a heart attack, or get hit by a car, or get shot, or choke on an apple slice. I don't know, the possibilities are really endless. So knowing that this could happen, why am I sitting at this desk for 16 hours a day, every day? Will it really, at any point ever, be worth it?
I really do not know.
I know that everything is pointless. I love the arts, but they really do not matter. But it does not change the fact that they at least make me feel something. That is the best you can do as a person, I think, is to authentically feel something.
It is amazing how easily people find themselves caught up, or distraught over the smallest things. Why be mad about something someone said, or someone being late, or someone forgetting something that is "important", when in the big scheme of things, it is not important at all?
Obviously, you physically cannot feel and/or think this way all of the time, because then you wouldn't be human. But in a lot of ways, thinking about how nothing matters is relatively relieving.
It is funny though, that I am sitting here writing this sort of article to meet my monthly quota because in reality, I am creatively drained. And as opposed to just not completing it, I feel an obligation to because it is my "job". Funny how easily I get sucked right back in.
Alright I am going to go and keep sitting at my desk for another ten hours.