Before you read the question at hand, consider this: I am tired, my big project at work is at a standstill, it is hot and humid, and there is nothing good on TV. This unhealthy living environment brought an avalanche of unneeded thoughts about our existanse as a human race, and what it all means in the end.
Uh ... the end. The ultimate, fascinating finish line humans make movies about, compose books of, plays, discussions, spawn various religions trying to explain what happens when THE switch is actually pulled. I thought about this subject extensively, and went on various tangents analyzing what our existance of an individual human being means. And what did I come up with? Well, the answer is "Nothing". Think about it. We swirm in our everyday lives, get upset over little things, join the rest of the herd in a constant race for something that ultimately does not matter. Then some nuts try to convince us that there is light in the end of the tunnel, as long as we keep donating $ to their religious establishment. Then we die. Our intestants are pulled out, skin balzamed, and off we go into a wooden box six feet under. And we lay there. While decomposing.
So the question is: are our worries, worthless tragedies, soul suffering worth it, considering the ultimate end?
Fuck it ... if only my project worked ....
