Why Life?
I mean, why are we here?
Honestly, I don't care. I seriously don't. It doesn't seem worth it to me to spend a life wondering what you're supposed to be doing with your life. I don't care if life is little more than cosmic sarcasm:
GOD: What if I create an entire species of creatures convinced their goal in life is to find out their goal in life?
DEVIL: That would be hilarious.
I doesn't matter if we're predestined for an eternity in Miami (to use an arbitrary example), or if we have to save ourselves from damnation at our own hands, or if we're supposed die as warriors. I'm entirely apathetic towards the concept of an afterlife. The only thing I have any distaste for is the concept of endless nothing; I think that'd be boring as whatever hell you believe in.
Most hells, ironically, aren't in the least bit boring.
I find it confusing that we're mortal, but everything afterwards is eternal. It bothers me that the goal of reincarnation is to pull off a perfect life, but doesn't allow us to remember our old lives and, more importantly, our old mistakes. It's ridiculous to me that there's a Santa-esqe figure watching us, wondering whether we're worth salvation, and checking his list while he does it; I don't mind the idea of greasing his palm with sacrifices for some reason, call me old fashioned I suppose.
I don't want to spend my life in fear of immolation, or damnation, or Miami, nor do I want to live forever. The idea of prolonging life past a point is distasteful. I'd like to live as long as I can; not a moment longer. Mostly, I just want to stop wondering what we're here for, more because it's dull arguing about philosophy.
If you ask me, arguing, fighting, winning, losing, dancing, running, writing, sleeping, singing, cooking, writing, working, sighing, driving, smiling, wondering, wishing, thinking, supposing, dreaming, screaming, crying, eating, talking, establishing, postulating, jumping, winking, designing, testing, building, repeating, washing, wearing, scheming, lying, escaping, and vying, are as important as cats and towels and mud and tomatoes and alligators and balsamic vinaigrette and battleships and dice and tables and planes and windows and eggplant and hot-sauce and movies and books and plays and dogs and birds and curtain rods and silence and anger and pain and fear and love and hate and despair and hope and shingled roofs and tiled floors and dirty looks and opened doors and hotdogs and burgers and beds and ovens and darkness and nighttime and fireworks and harbors and mountains and trees and the inexplicable reappearance of the sock you've been looking for since Tuesday.
Wait for the afterlife if you want. I'm perfectly content staying right here.
Honestly, I don't care. I seriously don't. It doesn't seem worth it to me to spend a life wondering what you're supposed to be doing with your life. I don't care if life is little more than cosmic sarcasm:
GOD: What if I create an entire species of creatures convinced their goal in life is to find out their goal in life?
DEVIL: That would be hilarious.
I doesn't matter if we're predestined for an eternity in Miami (to use an arbitrary example), or if we have to save ourselves from damnation at our own hands, or if we're supposed die as warriors. I'm entirely apathetic towards the concept of an afterlife. The only thing I have any distaste for is the concept of endless nothing; I think that'd be boring as whatever hell you believe in.
Most hells, ironically, aren't in the least bit boring.
I find it confusing that we're mortal, but everything afterwards is eternal. It bothers me that the goal of reincarnation is to pull off a perfect life, but doesn't allow us to remember our old lives and, more importantly, our old mistakes. It's ridiculous to me that there's a Santa-esqe figure watching us, wondering whether we're worth salvation, and checking his list while he does it; I don't mind the idea of greasing his palm with sacrifices for some reason, call me old fashioned I suppose.
I don't want to spend my life in fear of immolation, or damnation, or Miami, nor do I want to live forever. The idea of prolonging life past a point is distasteful. I'd like to live as long as I can; not a moment longer. Mostly, I just want to stop wondering what we're here for, more because it's dull arguing about philosophy.
If you ask me, arguing, fighting, winning, losing, dancing, running, writing, sleeping, singing, cooking, writing, working, sighing, driving, smiling, wondering, wishing, thinking, supposing, dreaming, screaming, crying, eating, talking, establishing, postulating, jumping, winking, designing, testing, building, repeating, washing, wearing, scheming, lying, escaping, and vying, are as important as cats and towels and mud and tomatoes and alligators and balsamic vinaigrette and battleships and dice and tables and planes and windows and eggplant and hot-sauce and movies and books and plays and dogs and birds and curtain rods and silence and anger and pain and fear and love and hate and despair and hope and shingled roofs and tiled floors and dirty looks and opened doors and hotdogs and burgers and beds and ovens and darkness and nighttime and fireworks and harbors and mountains and trees and the inexplicable reappearance of the sock you've been looking for since Tuesday.
Wait for the afterlife if you want. I'm perfectly content staying right here.
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