Worth reading?

Sometimes (all right, most of the time) I feel that way too, like I’m missing the point. I used to care too much about injustice, about other people, about myself – at that time, I felt I was missing the point because I was helpless in the face of all the unfairness in the world. I spent about three years trying to literally tear myself apart because I deserved it, or someone else did, or just because everything was becoming unbearable.

And then sometime later I stopped caring at all. It’s too bloody tiring.

Now I feel like I’m missing the point, because there *is* no point, and everyone who says there is is either insane or deluding themselves. I figure, we are just a blip in the existence of the universe; it was there before us and it will go on after us (if it really isn’t just in our heads, and we really do exist – although the definition of ‘existence’ may be debatable). We will all die in the end, so what does it matter what we do? I’ve been told this state of mind constitutes ‘despair’, but I have to disagree. ‘Despair’ is far too strong a word. It implies you actually give a damn.

I have periods when I think, “well, I’m going to die, but let’s try to make a difference while we’re still here”. But most of the time I don’t want to think, feel or remember. I’m not really sure I remember how.

I do find beauty in life. I find beauty, and cruelty, and irony – and feel nothing. It seems irrelevant. Exactly as you said: we are lost souls floating on the wind. I am not suicidal; once again, that is too strong a term. I will not kill myself (at least not directly, even if that makes me a coward). I will just wait this out until I cease to exist.

I like to think that one day, I will just blow away quietly on the breeze.

Thank you for writing this. On a lighter note, I feel exactly the same about being outside, fresh air and windows. (Maybe I’m subconsciously afraid that I really will blow away after all?)