It’s all pointless, isn’t it? It really doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
All the hopes and fears,we are so full of ourselves that we choke on the garbage we fill our minds with, and throw up before we can stuff anymore of ourselves down our throats. It’s all pointless, and it doesn’t mean a thing. We are tiny, tiny people with small minds living, occupying an infinitesimal amount of space in this universe. But we fill the universe with our world and believe they are one and the same. And we run out of space. Everything lives in our heads. Good or bad. The horrible client or the terrible ex, the friends who never understand you or the friends who should, all the stories about what happened and what will happen live in our head. And who rules our head?
Continue reading “Making a point: A letter to myself”