This is an Epiphany of sorts, of course. Basically, I've been thinking a lot lately. About life, and how we each are as people, and how we fit into the whole, and what our purpose is. and I have come to a conclusion that is more than a little bit depressing and unfortunate.

I don't think that anybody on this Earth is here for any good reason except for being born.

Think about it. All that humans do, in any given day, is to wake up, eat, sleep, go to school or work, go home, eat, maybe have sex, and go to bed. How is this anything special? We do nothing. Nothing that we do affects the universe. Our lives, no matter how important or full of life they are, are pointless. Existence is pointless. Why is there anything? And I don't mean just about me, or humans, or the planet Earth--I mean anything. I mean the galaxy, the universe--anything. There's no rhyme or reason for anything

Why does anything exist? Why can't there be nothing? Why does the idea scare people so much?

And here are us, Humans, Homo Sapiens, who come up with things like math to explain everything around us when we really don't have a fucking clue what the hell we're talking about. Think about it for a minute. Math is such a weird concept. Adding things and subtracting them and multiplying... we use physics and chemistry to tell us what everything is made out of, but we never understand it, no matter how deep we dig. There is always something else.

Humans are incompetent, in more ways than one.

People say that the point of life is to live it to the fullest, but what is the fullest? To fall in love? To go fucking crazy at every opportunity? To make babies, like our bodies tell us to?

It makes no sense, and at the same time, everything suddenly made sense to me.

There is no reason that we are here. We are, and that is all that matters. We have to grin and bear it, deal with what we have because there's no way that it'll change anytime soon. We are humans on the planet Earth. And I know that I may not have quite convinced you or explained how this makes sense, but I swear it does. It is so clear to me, so obvious. The existence of anything, be it a person or a planet, is all based on idea, on thought. Without thought, no animal would be anything other than dead and extinct.

I'm sorry, this is a crappy explanation. I tried. If you care, email me and I'll try some more to make it clearer. Or nobody will read this.

The thought makes me sad. I feel... like I finally understand something, that not everything in life is a mystery to me. I feel like the world is definitive and sensical, finally.

But the worst part of my epiphany is that All it does is make me sad and depressed. to the point of suicide. I won't resort to that, I'm not that stupid. But how important am I? or you? One might argue that I am important to my family, my friends, maybe some people who I've written assays for over the years. But the truth is, that they aren't so important either. None of us are.

And it makes me a little bit sad.

This is me, and that's all that there is to it. I am me. That's all that I have to be.