Insomniac Rant

These words are stuck inside my head, like a snowstorm. Or a storm of swords. If I were to be any freer, I’m afraid I would fall off the planet entirely. Dark or light, cold or warm, safe or in mortal danger, I’m not there. Where is this place? And how do I get out of here? And, if I’ve reached it by getting out of things constantly, maybe I’m just on the absolute outside now.

But, I don’t think Absolutes are so easy anymore. Well, to be fair, I never thought they were easy.. but, now I think they’re just next to impossible.

It isn’t fair, yes, but life is neither meant to be fair, nor does it ever promise to be so. We’re only Star-dust lucky enough to exist in the form of living, breathing, thinking, feeling, communicating life-forms. It’s only a random gift. A lovely gift, but completely random.

Is there any point in fixing anything? When we’re all fated to burn and be forgotten by the outsides of our tiny doomed planet? Yes. Yes, there has to be, because everything must be taken to its logical conclusion. If it is all pointless, then why bother living? You could just kill yourself, for all the eventual difference it would make.
No, if you choose to live, choose to exist, then you are proceeding on the assumption that things matter. You can still choose to ignore that, but don’t pretend you don’t know.

What’s the use of all the gold in the World if all you ever want is a single live flower? What use is all the gold in the world if there’s only one crown that has ever caught your eye?

How do we know what’s important? Isn’t it important to know that?

And, finally, am I seriously the only one who has such issues with time? It slips and flows out of my hands at times, and then melts and stretches and drips at others.

I don’t want secrets. But, no matter what you convert into what, whether it’s a memories into words, or thoughts into songs, or feelings into letters, the Truth is always the same.

What is the Truth?

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