The point.

I was kinda out of it earlier (see my previous post about it) and i convinced myself i figured out the point of life. Maybe i did, who knows. I think the point of life is to realise you’re happy as many times as you can before you die. Like sometimes i just have these moments where i realise, laying in bed and watching something or playing something, that I’m actually content. That’s as good as it gets. I want to be content. I don’t care if I’m happy. I don’t care to be excited. I want to be content. Every time i struggle to get through something, i zone myself out so i can do it and imagine the other side. Maybe after this week at school, or this shift at work, I’ll be in bed, in the dark, with a body that isn’t hurting and a head that can be calm. I want to be content. I want all of the world to stop for me just for a moment. Is that too much to ask? For some time? For a little respect? Because when i die, the world still won’t stop. It just keeps spinning, people continue to drive, eat, sleep, work, live. Lights still turn on and off, the world still gets louder and warmer and nothing changes just because some useless girl ended up the way she wanted to be. The world doesn’t stop for anyone. The point of life isn’t to leave a mark, make an impact, help people, even just to continue your bloodline. It’s just to notice that sometimes, I’m happy, and it’s quiet and warm and I don’t hurt. I want to be content.