The Rock pushes me to keep driving my body forward; Roosevelt settles my mind when it all starts feeling too fruitless/nihilistic.
In my mind, I’ve separated death and dying. Death is the one thing I look forward to, when I can just finally stop, cease to exist, back to 0; the weight of this flesh body finally lifted as my consciousness disperses into the cosmos. I don’t think that people are anything more than walking flashlights and I really can’t wait for my batteries to run out. No more guilt, no more expectations, no more desires; just nothing.
Dying is a lot more real than death. Non-existence is the opposite of everything that is, but dying is very much in this realm of possibility. I’m afraid of pain, physical and mental; I don’t want a slow death from old age or disease. I’m whipping my body into shape, everyday pushing it, until I die suddenly, but forever pushing my body. I fear ‘getting old’ more than anything else. The body slows, the mind closes; I don’t want to to be that. I don’t want to be an “adult”. While I’m here as this body, I will not be that.
Push it, work it, dig deep and keep it in shape; mind and body.
Think of a beach. A sandy beach. Dig a hand into the sand and pull up a fist full. Let it flow through your fingers until a single grain remains. Put that grain under a miscroscope and magnify several million times. That’s where you’ll find planet earth in the grand scheme of things. Maybe there are “gods” that can play in the universe, who use stars as tanning beds and comets and bubble gum. But what makes them worthy of religious worship? What many would consider to be a superpower comes naturally to so many “lesser” beasts of the world. Are we so great? Is anything?
I think we just are. Place two mirrors face to face and gaze at the meaning of life.