thoughts
idk maybe everything is meaningless, and maybe it isnt, and maybe it is and ad infinitum until we realize that the question is arbitrary. nothing in the universe has ever been destroyed or created, meerly changed form. what is me is what is you, the difference in our genome and chemical structure is so astronomically small that holding the door open is just as much self care as taking a day off.
why am i on this planet? i dont fucking know, but i played my ukulele with friends and we all sang "Everything Stays" together without knowing that the others knew the world.
i am in the mood to ramble about the complexities of our existence, to wax poetic about the cosmos and sing the praises of creation. yet, my words are but grunts and sighs in comparison to the symphony that surrounds me. more can be gained in a lively conversation than in all the books in the world, more can be seen in the shallow smile of the shy girl in the back of the class than in a mosaic.
maybe no one will ever hear what i have to say. i love the aesthetic of the incomprehensible artist who was born at the wrong time, whose cult fan base continues the legacy of their thought in the shadows. but also i only want clout so i can disavow it and say it didnt matter. im saying that there is beauty in the way that you can tell that someone has lived a life you will never know from the way they repeat certain words or how the chuckle at meaningless things. i wonder if aliens have inside jokes? i hope so.
you could kill me right now and it would just be one event among many. alas! another life lost, so cruel so beautiful. but i say things like that and people worry about me. im not used to people being worried about me, or caring about my opinions with sincerity.
and yeah maybe i am scared that i wont amount to anything. that i wont be able to see what its like at the top, to see what it means to be truly great. what of it. it is an impossible peak to reach. what of it. we live and we die and we live and we die. what of it.
i also like how no one reads these. hello 3 people who stumbled across this. you know my deepest and most intimate self and nothing else, like recognizing someones organs before their face.
nothing i say can ammount to anytning more than "i love this place, but i cannot reach it", not sure why i obbses so much. oh well, so be it. life goes on, so be it.
why am i on this planet? i dont fucking know, but i played my ukulele with friends and we all sang "Everything Stays" together without knowing that the others knew the world.
i am in the mood to ramble about the complexities of our existence, to wax poetic about the cosmos and sing the praises of creation. yet, my words are but grunts and sighs in comparison to the symphony that surrounds me. more can be gained in a lively conversation than in all the books in the world, more can be seen in the shallow smile of the shy girl in the back of the class than in a mosaic.
maybe no one will ever hear what i have to say. i love the aesthetic of the incomprehensible artist who was born at the wrong time, whose cult fan base continues the legacy of their thought in the shadows. but also i only want clout so i can disavow it and say it didnt matter. im saying that there is beauty in the way that you can tell that someone has lived a life you will never know from the way they repeat certain words or how the chuckle at meaningless things. i wonder if aliens have inside jokes? i hope so.
you could kill me right now and it would just be one event among many. alas! another life lost, so cruel so beautiful. but i say things like that and people worry about me. im not used to people being worried about me, or caring about my opinions with sincerity.
and yeah maybe i am scared that i wont amount to anything. that i wont be able to see what its like at the top, to see what it means to be truly great. what of it. it is an impossible peak to reach. what of it. we live and we die and we live and we die. what of it.
i also like how no one reads these. hello 3 people who stumbled across this. you know my deepest and most intimate self and nothing else, like recognizing someones organs before their face.
nothing i say can ammount to anytning more than "i love this place, but i cannot reach it", not sure why i obbses so much. oh well, so be it. life goes on, so be it.
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