How many people end up lying on their death bed asking this question - what was the sense in life? Give me reason for why I lived my life? What is the purpose of life altogether?
Isn't that something that concerns you?
It concerns me. Because dibble dobbling through this dense experience running on default doesn't necessarily bring us closer to a greatness. What is great? I know living this life, during most days - it is not great; even if your smiling, it doesn't convince me that the product your peddling is any more fruity then the shit they put in this tin can or that glass bottle. You live happy, you die happy - isn't that worth something? I say no. You know what I am? Friggin' pissed that I've been tossed around on this desert for this long all the while wondering how I'm going to end this thing with purpose. Its the long wait - the silence and the noise - neither of the polarities satisfy; even if I could fly I'd find my time spent just the same. People say "I want to do this or that before I grow old" I say, I don't wanna do anything until I figure out how it ends, and I'm this far from finding that out.
To all you paranoia patients, this is not a cry for suicide. This is a scream of frustration.
Now figure it out.
