Do we all have purpose?
What is purpose?
we dare not accept that our lives lack meaning, the only meaning being the ones we create, a human illusion, discarding our lightness of being
we love suffering, we love pain, for without it – for most – we are nothing
monkeys, eating, shitting and fucking
This life is so long, I wait for it to end, to see, to accept this belief
right before, I will know, in my heart, that it all didn’t matter, and… I’ll be okay with that
any regrets will be superfluous, all worries erased
the only disturbance being that I wish I didn’t worry so much while I was alive
like an evil conundrum, existing here or there but never in unity, never visible
a complete human characteristic and curse
it is all either here or there, even if it isn’t
and that’s all we’re going to be able to see it as