I've been in a really strange of mind lately. All I've thought about is how my existence plays an importance anywhere in the world. Reaching the same conclusion, I negotiate to myself that I am not who I ever want to be nor am I who I thought I was.
I never accept that I exist to anyone. I don't know what made me besides myself, but all I ever think about is why something may be laid out in front of me in such a manner. I'm talking about the universe you and I both live in.
Sure, we might exist in this universe but what the fuck is it doing out there? Why are we the cogs that run the bigger cogs that run more cogs? I'm constantly lost about where or how I fit into any of this. I close my eyes and I wake up.
It's another day, or another dream. I'm wondering what I'm doing, and I keep looking around. All I see are the same set of eyes that greet me when I wake up. At night, the same sounds and flickers that I missed when I was younger. Nobody understands that I hate losing those things that help me exist.
In a way, I am ceasing to exist. It is a permeating truth I have discovered as my tenure of a thinking atheist continues to ascend into the higher places. Death is just waiting for you. Some blindly accept it, and some dream it. Some dream -of- it and others strangely wish it...
I cannot stress it enough that existence is the foreplay to each and every day. I can stress that each day spent dying is one less spent living. And I am always, and sometimes never just wondering if I am truly alive or maybe I am dead. The truth sits in my head and I will never know. Not a single person can swerve me.