Milkydoxy,  Wondering Through Existence

The Boundaries That Be Close Us In, We’re Locked in and Screaming Space is However Infinitely Stretched, Deep Beyond The Light- years Reside Those Never Listening To Us Once

Life is what we live in, or we call it that at least. A constant mix of pleasure and pain, hot and cold with more hot than what is cold. Both are undesirable, yet at the same time both are at times desirable. We’re strewn about, not knowing what or where we’re to go but constantly searching something. We know nothing of real existence, we’re smaller than the thought of the greatest grand particle bunches hovering about in what’s vastly beyond us. We don’t matter, yet fool ourselves. We have no meaning, yet constantly you ask “what is my meaning?” The suffering of life is constant, to reach for more, to reach for answers is constant. Shots in the dark, the targets are always missed. The issue is that in the darkness the targets never existed, we’re flailing about in blindness thinking there’s something there to be hit. Tragedy is, it’s just us, and there’s nothing to be had and nothing to be done. You will never be fulfilled. The wake up message is, when you recognize it, that this is alright and there’s absolutely no reason for everything not to be just fine. The trouble of life is what you make it, just know it’ll always be at your side.

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