Life, death, and time are the three components of life. Someone at work said the most valuable thing you can give someone is your time. Each day that I show up to work I am exchanging a day of my life.. Since it is all finite with unforeseen expiry dates, it seems like such a huge price to pay for a paycheck. I can never gain back that time and it seems so hefty because we never know how much we have to spend.
I will be dead, some day. Cease to exist and will no longer share my thoughts with the world via the internet. No more picture-taking, planning vacations to Rome that I will never take. I will never write again. No more masturbating. What really gets me is I won’t know I am not doing these things, because all existence will have ended, for me. In a small indirect way the world does exist just for me, because when I am gone I will no longer be aware of my lack of experiences, or a lack of world for that matter. Nothingness.
It certainly makes things bleak. Existence is the problem for me. I like existing, a lot. I like experiencing, I like learning and creating, I like it all. Even the painful parts, because I am alive and can experience it. I don’t know if that motivates me, because then why do anything? It’s not going to matter because I won’t even be here to experience it. It makes it harder to do menial tasks because it all feels like its going to end the same way no matter what I do today or what I leave behind. There are millions of ways that this can go but I prefer to keep the subject of death light.
It all gets very overwhelming sometimes and I sometimes feel I can’t cope. I talked to a therapist about it and she told me to read Jean Paul Sartre Being and Nothingness which my wife happens to own. Ill get to it eventually. So what drives me you ask? I always come back to Monty Pythons ‘Always look on the bright side of life’ song. It perfectly sums up like is quite absurd and death’s the final word. It makes me remember that I sometimes take all of this just a bit to seriously sometimes and to get more out of everything. I mean –
what have you got to lose?
You know, you come from nothing
– you’re going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing.
Painting By “Premier Devil” (The First Mourning) by Bouguereau