truth be told, there’s no need to live
there’s no place that must be seen
there’s no thing that must be done.
oh, sure, we are born.
we are raised however we may have been
we go to school, we learn things, we do things
yet we have no real need to live
we merely do.
at some point, everything we do in life becomes just what we do.
sometimes we enjoy it, other times we’re frustrated
other times ____________ [fill in the blank with the emotional reality du jour]
basically, we have experiences to fetch and tend to emotional feelings derived from those experiences we choose.
there is no need to live
we live to write a story whether we pen a single word or not
the truth that those stories actually have any meaning is irrelevant
under even the best of circumstances because the context is created
by all the rest of us giving context, import and veracity to the stories as being important.
they are not, important, not at all.
there is no need to live.
so why do we live?
i don’t know, really, i think its just our autonomic systems are hellified creations of a story bigger than these one’s we create by amusing ourselves until our autonomic system finally fails and we are relieved of this duty, and hopefully that bigger picture has a reason for us to live even if we don’t really actually have one.
i really seriously wonder why we submit ourselves to this existence.
this “life” is just not fun — its mean and its cruel and its fully of liars and bullies.
it is not fun in any way when you think about that which is being done.
and there is really no need for me to live in this reality.