Delayed Intention

I don’t care if you read this. That was probably the worst opening one could write. Why should I care? In all likelihood I don’t even know you. In theory, I might know someone who knows someone who knows someone else that might know you, but unless you belong to the first two parts of this sentence, then you aren’t currently relevant to me. Don’t expect any revelations from this. I won’t spout out nonsense like that cliché phrase found on every self reflective work, “this will change your life.”

What are literary works but the thoughts of other humans? In every human lives this phenomenon of individuality and soul. Everyone is significant, yet no one is significant. If everyone is unique, then being unique is the same as being average. I’m sure you’ve heard all this before, but I amuse myself by thinking that I come up with all these ideas on my own. We are less than a speck of dust in this Universe. Does that make our existence extremely special or utterly insignificant? I swear I came up with this while laying on my back staring at the stars, but I’m positive it’s been thought of before. While reading many breakthrough works in the field of Mathematics or Psychology, I would think to myself, “that’s obvious, I could have come up with that,” though it’s most likely because that discovery has already been integrated into the knowledge base of our society.

Enough babbling about the contradictions and circles that humanity wraps itself upon, lets come back to me; the self loathing, pompous prick that I am. The time is about 4 am. This is the time I normally dwell on anything and everything. It must be because of the boredom and quiet. I come up with ideas for songs or my own life, but when I wake up the next day, it’s just more crap that I toss away. Every day that passes by, every time I fall asleep and wake up just seems like another day wasted. What is a day but 1/30000 of an average life span? What is a week but 1/4000? A year but 1/80. I’ve already seemingly wasted 23 years, but I probably got another 50 left. If you can’t tell, I’m being sarcastic and am actually quite uneasy about every wasted day that’s been accumulating in my life. Yet at the same time, I’m quite apathetic about it. There are never enough contradictions. “Tomorrow will be the day when things change…”