Losing the Point

I keep getting dragged back again and again, to the gaping, absolute brevity of this life.

A fleeting moment. Transient as a shooting star. Wish before it fades.

And so little time to spend here. I cannot feel secure and sedentary in this situation. It’s here now, gone tomorrow.

And so all the little problems, all the big problems — I want to neglect them, ignore them, sit down and talk and conclude that they don’t exist. Because I’ve got so little time, and so many things I want to do. So many places to visit, so many colours to drown in, so many smiles to watch, so many useless moments to waste staring at nothingness…

Look around, it is everywhere. And yet it is nowhere. It is the meaning. It is in everything visible, audible, sensible and yet you can never feel it. You flow in this dynamic current of ‘happening’, and go around doing what is of utmost importance to you, because, well, others are doing it. You find meaning, purpose, structure. I wish I could be like that. But you see, I have a tendency to lose the point sometimes, when all I know is how brief this life is. That’s all that counts.

But I cannot be different. When you live in a wall, you have to be a brick like the others, and support the structure. Or the other bricks won’t support you. Hence I live, I flow in the current, I leave things unfulfilled, I neglect things that my heart wants to do, my mind hunts for structure in everything, and I would have been here like the rest of everyone, and I wouldn’t have made a difference. Here today, gone tomorrow.

I’m so comfortably settled in the warmth of a thousand years of structural garbage that the thought doesn’t even scare me.


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