06/28/2020: nocturnal nostalgia

I have, more so than before, these moments where my thoughts seem to be beyond me. Where what i plan to say and plan to do already exist in a sphere, and i simply step into said sphere. This notion, i thought this word was necessary for some reason, makes me think that life has already been experienced, that the generations of millions are dead and buried and it’s only myself shifting through them like pages on a book.

I wonder now if this makes me sad or if it makes me more understanding of the human psyche; or maybe it just solidifies that i am human, and that my existence is fragile. That maybe the likelihood of being something beyond a moment that’s already past is just not possible.

Then i wonder, how this reality is fragile, and this should be understood as by the fact that space above us proves we aren’t more than organisms from Earth, and with its fragility i think how impossible it is that someone could make me question it. How someone could make me wonder if there’s something beyond reality, or that maybe being human isn’t such a bad thing.

I think as we grow older we wish for the supernatural to exist because we are simply wishing for hope. Hope that our dreams aren’t meaningless, yet not to be mistaken because dreams have meaning, what we do and what drives us are essential for a great existence here on Earth, but the subject is more important than simply just existing here on Earth. I think that it isn’t ghosts that scare us but the idea that there aren’t ghosts.

We very much need the hope of the afterlife as much as we need a good scary movie to scare our senses but soothe our sub-conscious anxieties that we are all alone here— and we always will be.

I think this is wholesome, because it strengthens my desires for Earthly relationships and goods. When we die, it is gone; and let’s not gloss over that we were the select few allowed to exist and ponder the heavens. “But 6 billion people is a lot.” No it’s not, not when you consider how countable the number of bacteria on your finger are.

This is something special, even when it doesn’t feel like it. We don’t exist for pleasure or for any good holy reason— we simply exist.

Consider who you care about, keep them close in your thoughts and in your heart, because the river flows downward towards the inevitable chasm that consumes us all.

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