A word that struck me as significant today is: empty. Empty promises, empty compliments, empty souls, empty hearts. Devoid of meaning, nothingness, insignificant, spent of emotion. What does it mean to have nothing?
A golden bow-tied box. It’s so very pretty, but so very useless if there’s nothing inside.
You know the difference between you and me? We’re actually quite similar if you didn’t realize it yet, but the difference is that I’m actually doing something with my life. You’re not. And I know you know. Oh please, go on pretending. We all slowly die, and it’s the in-between from birth to that point that makes life so meaningful.
The purpose of my life is to live happily. So long as what I do brings no harm (debatedly to myself and others or just to others) and I don’t intentionally hurt anyone, I should proceed without care and without caution. That is my reason for existence. It is wholly selfish, and I understand that more than anything else. I AM SELFISH. But I’ve chosen that as my means of living. However, don’t forget what I stated: so long as I don’t hurt anyone, I can be selfish. I’m not selfish to the point of sacrificing the well-being of another human being to benefit myself. And I see this as the best way of life.
Apart from the fact that I do not like even the presence of most (as in, not all, but the majority of) children I can’t ever have any because that contradicts my purpose in life. Regardless of my abilities to care for another person, I can’t give happiness to someone else and myself all at the same time. Knowing myself I’d want to buy more things for myself, go out for my own entertainment, etc., and that is not conducive to the raising of a proper and well-loved child.
Strangely I was thinking what life is like as an older maybe middle-aged adult without a child yesterday. You know, hypothetical situations. What if the people in my life get older, wiser, less selfish? And they start getting married and they start having children. Will I lose my friends? Will I lose the ability to spend time with them because they’re more involved in the lives’ of their children? Do people have children to fit into society or because they truly want to raise one? (Wow that last question sounds awful, as if they were cattle. That was not intentional.)
This entry was originally intended to go in a totally different direction, but my mind digresses. The art of thinking too much, except it’s not really an art. It’s a state of being for me. Hey, let’s lighten the conversation! 90210 and Fringe air tonight! The latter is such a great show, while the former I’m only watching for kicks. Oh heey my friend is here! Baaiii.