Life is meaningless?
Date Friday, March 29, 2024 - 03:10 AM PST
Topic Whining


There is a tendency to push your inner demons, haunted memories, and past failures so far away that they create a ferocious black hole, devouring every shred of light that it can grasp. - To contain such a beast is a struggle. This is an everlasting routine and for a moment, I let my inner guard down.
I went to the mall last night, searching for a few shirts, look at prices of games first hand and perhaps even see a movie. Just a casual activity, another insipid exercise that I haven’t performed in a while. Walking around I saw some old friends from high school. I had a few quick chats with them, a simile, chuckle, handshake and we parted. A bit of a refreshing surprise but short lived, nonetheless.

As I walked around the polished marble floors and entered store to store, I noticed other people walking in circles as well, from store to store. In one place where I was standing looking at shirts, I observed a small group of girls asking the cashier to take their photo. They did this in store after store after store. It almost seemed as if I were being followed or were accidentally eavesdropping on their little “adventure".

The trip to the movies was short lived. The agitated clerk wouldn’t honor my free ticket until the next day. After he expressed this to me in an extremely brazen tone of voice I left.

As I began to drive away, I acknowledged a repeating thought in my head engendered by the carefree arrogance of myself and the people around me at the mall. Each day is a trivial affair, a germinating tedium from the time you wake up until the time you are in your deathly trance appropriately named sleep.

We live our lives, a solitary unit in the ranks of billions. Our goals in life are simply short-lived acts of glory, public or not. Not every soul will be remembered unless, of course, you happen to create a great enough historical event by which people remember you. We move like drones in the beehive, marching to work, to school, and for some, to return to a coffin of a domicile. When our minds grow weary, we herd to the theater, club, concert, store, library, or amusement park in search of new stimuli. Many of our daily adventures are merely necessary endeavors, austerely riding to the market and back for a bag groceries and fresh milk.

So many of us were raised believing that our prince or princess is waiting for us, with the wings of a angel, enveloped in scarves of velvet, or in some sort of shining armor. We are supposed to attach to this person. This attachment, this adventure, has the elegant name of love masking the banal endeavor of reproduction. According to “society's standards”, all humans are supposed to mate, reproduce, lead rich, fruitful lives then grow old, withered, scraping by the last few “Golden Years” in some rank smelling old folk's home.

I wonder if is this all our “glorious” world has to offer. I wonder if anyone else thinks this way, speculating, “If this is what life has to offer, then the offer isn’t very much". I wonder if anyone else experiences these social pressures and the many other depressing cries and burdens of an infinitely lonely existence, and if so, does it create the feeling of a sinking hole inside your chest.

Our lives simply cannot consist of such basic routines. There must be something more to this world than this spiraling tedium. Perhaps I have had my eyes shut to tightly for to long. I may be blind to the beauty which others see, or that I refuse to see it. You can go ahead and say that I am insane, say that I should get out more or that I’m merely a nineteen year old drunk with some kind of youthful anguish, I don’t really care. I am simply a man who cannot sprout the wings of an angel and retire to the beauty between the endless arrangements of stars.


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