(An excerpt from one of my journal entries dated July 24th, 4:15pm)
I want to be so much more, do so much more, and mean so much more. But how? How do I achieve respite for myself when so many others try to do the same and can't? What makes me so atypical that I should have an atypical life?
I, like everybody else, am nothing more than a chunk of evolved stardust making a futile attempt to give meaning to the cosmos. But assigned meaning isn't the same as divine meaning, It's not as important and it's far less accurate. Perhaps instead of seeking to find meaning, we should simply be open to allowing meaning to find us.
I don't know if any of this is even making sense, but I had to get it out and written so that maybe someday it will make sense. Or maybe it won't. Such is life and such is the way of the universe. In the end, none of it will matter anyways. In the end, the true end, nothing will matter because nothing will be. In 200 years nothing I have done or will do is going to matter. So why bother? Why try with such futility to change things to your liking or your benefit? Years from now when you don't matter anymore, someone else (who also doesn't matter) will just come along and change everything you did.
The size of the universe and how minuscule we all are in it is both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
