#It is 5 am and I'm being fucking menaced by my own nihilism

[i-cant-believe-its-not-silk]

I'm courting more than death with this one

The end seems so unbearably close

My finite existence grates at my mind, pulling me down that familiar spiral.

I'm afraid of being forgotten.

Afraid that it won't matter

But life was never about the end. And I have quite a bit more journey to experience.

In its inevitable fragility the value of life skyrockets to ironically unending heights.

Every moment we spend matters more because at some point our moments will end.

Every single line of our story holds so much more weight when it's over.

Every moment good or bad terrible or great boring or interesting holds meaning exactly because of the stakes involved.

Sometimes the tension is almost unbearable.

And sometimes I never even get out of bed.

No life can be truly squandered for every life thought pointless brightens the world with context and consequences.

A bitter comfort, I know.

We stand on the shoulders of giants but those giants were only big because everyone else was small.

Without a competion to be beat your achievements mean nothing.

We only go down in history because of those who don't.

Background characters who did nothing except make the world feel more alive.

So maybe I won't be rembered for who I was or what I did.

Maybe I'll be content and happy at the end

Or maybe I'll have lived a dull and depressing life.

But either way I'll have brightened the world in my own way.

Appreciated because I was forgotten.

A bitter comfort, I know.