Bertrand Russell said everything becomes extinct at some point or another. Now I was thinking and given I am EXHAUSTED, thoughts tend to ramble as zig-zagged as my own meandering tired steps. Yes, indulgent prose, sue me. (Have your people call my people, we'll do lunch)
Now, we come into the world screaming (or if not, are smacked and then start screaming) and is there any point in continuing that way? I have been so burdened by things that they always get me down. I'd like to think I'm self aware. Id' like to believe my own conclusion and the thing is, there's honestly not much to be sad about. I mean if everything really comes to an end, what's the point of searching for a point? And I mean that word literally, a point as in a point in time, a state, a singular state of being be it marrying a rich banker and getting fake boobs or having picket fences. There's no knowing if we get to that point, we will be happy.
Maybe the whole point is to stop thinking about being at a point and just enjoy the ride, do what you can, be happy, learn and have fun. Perhaps it becomes clearer along the way.
Of course, believing this requires a leap of faith.
I could just be talking rubbish because I am so tired and blood rushed out of my head on the walk home and no, I did not pass a pretty girl, I am just tired.
But for some reason, relieved.
I don't want to be sad any more. Melancholic, sure, brooding, hell yeah, angst addled wretched lonely in my head fine it's part of the package.
But not sad.
We'll see how long this mood lasts