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The mundane routine of existence can be quite exhausting, and I often question why this is. Our lives are an in-between of the before and after, concepts that are both intangible to grasp within this realm. So, why are we content with fatigue? Why do we waste the concept which we can obtain - the knowledge that we exist? If the unknown of after creeps closer with each breath, reminding us of the fatal flaw that is the human condition, why do we continue debilitating ourselves? Why have we allowed our wings to be clipped and our minds to be drained of any semblance of creativity? Because in the grand scheme of things, we are a blimp, a cosmic nothingness on an infinite map, yet we accept our depleted in-between.
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Acari
stuck fr v_v
Scott Oakjaw