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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2095932
Rated: 13+ · Non-fiction · Dark · #2095932
I wrote this a few nights ago when these thoughts were circling my mind, bringing me down.
         There is something fundamentally discontent in the human condition. Whatever we do, whoever we are, something is missing. We can cover it up, and do in a multitude of ways, business, booze, intimacy, both real and imagined. But at the end of the day, whenever we get a chance to stop and be still it is there, in our reflections, our thoughts, and our very souls. Many who see this are seen as mad, or depressed. However, we all secretly feel it. The longing for something MORE. What is it? I'll not feign to know. Many hypotheses have been proposed for what that something is, but I don't believe any are fully true. Knowledge? Helpful, but not fully satisfying. Love? I wouldn't personally know, seeing as my love life (as little as there has been) has seemed like something more akin to a horror movie than a romantic masterpiece, but from what I've seen, that's also not it. It covers the hole in us more efficiently than most things, but it still seems to be there, just felt less acutely due to the shared nature of the void. Religion? Maybe, however I am quite religious, and while I've had times where The joy of the Lord overflows in me and I cannot seem to feel the void at all, eventually it returns. It is not a foolproof plan, life will steal that joy if you let your guard down, and just having religion, knowing God and loving him with all your heart will not entirely fill that void. So what is the void? My opinion is: purpose. We all have a purpose, but none seem able to find it. They think they find it, but their lives are still empty. One problem though; what is the purpose of purpose? What is the ultimate goal of the human race? Is anything we do ever going to matter, or is it just going to be another page in a history textbook. We all struggle endlessly through life, trying to get ahead, only to arrive at the doors of death and realize we have nothing, no one, we are alone and leaving everything we've ever known for an end that is anything but reassuring. What lies beyond this door? Is it heaven, is it hell, is it nothingness? Or do we just cycle our souls back into the earth as another living being, revolving in a never-ending swirl of life that has no end, no goal, and no purpose. In the face of that is anything really important? We will all die, nations will fall, building collapse and be downtrodden, more will be born to replace us, going through the same problems we do today, asking the same questions we ask ourselves in the back of our minds. Why am I here? What am I supposed to do that will mean anything? One day the sun shall burn its last, the light and warmth that reaches earth shall cease and all life shall end. Yet we are but a dot, less than a speck in the immensity of the universe. Yet we know, that like all thing that ever have been, eventually, this too, shall pass. When we stand at the end of days, what shall we see? Glory and splendor unimagined, fire and waste across a scale unthought-of of in the collective minds of all ages, or shall we see nothing? I don't know. All I know is that I am discontent, and fearful. Discontent that I've not found meaningful purpose, and fearful that there truly is none is the grand scope of things.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2095932