Saturday, May 19, 2012

Life and all it's glory (42?)

Here you are, for whatever reason, reading this. Sitting on your bed, listening to music, browsing the net, doing whatever the fuck you’re doing.
And here we are, all of us, in this planet, in a solar system, out of millions of solar systems, in a galaxy out of millions of galaxies. And you know what I realized?
That our lives are completely and utterly pointless. Our existence is pointless. We came into existence merely as a natural product of evolution. A product of a simple mutated organism that has evolved over the years into a more complex system that has somehow managed to get us here today. We came into existence by chance.  We continue to live on this planet, going about from day to day, doing things that occupy our time. Studying to become Engineer, raising your status in society, helping out people, just “living” life. But what we really are, is nothing. We are nothing but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. We are irrelevant to everything. Every single thing you do is meaningless. Our lives are absolutely pointless.
Every. Single. One. Of. Us.
There is no incontrovertible proof of an afterlife, the soul, or a higher power. Our whole existence is a subjective experience on this planet, and indeed your very existence, is absolutely fucking bullshit; disappearing like a popped bubble almost immediately after your heart gives out and your brain follows soon afterwards. All religions were born from the finite minds of humans, and are all inarguably lies and myths in the absence of indisputable evidence. Near-death experiences are just the continuing thought-processes of a dying brain, and are not indicative of any level of awareness or consciousness outside the physical body after brain activity ceases completely. Your ultimate reward, regardless of how you live your life or what you believe in, is nothing. The deepest and most profound endless unconsciousness.
This means that everything you do, all that you see, love, hate, give, save, deal, create, destroy, eat, everyone you meet, every single action you do in your life, means absolutely nothing. What you make of your time on here is absolutely fucking irrelevant, as it is finite and fleeting and ultimately meaningless.
The universe itself is a joke, and death is the punchline. Birth into existence itself is quite simply the single most pathetic and unfortunate event any living thing can ever experience, because the only other absolute truth in this world beside birth is the cessation of subjectivity, thought, and the mind: Death.
It’s inevitable. Every living thing will die sooner or later. I’m going to die. You’re going to die. Your friends are going to die. We have an expiration date stamped in our hearts the moment we came into existence. And not only are we dying, but the universe itself is dying, and everything that would’ve survived the billions of years after the death of us, will also die. It will end up nothing but a frozen, black void with nothing but inert particles. Which means not only your existence, but indeed the existence of absolutely everything, down to the smallest quantum objects and encompassing all of reality is without meaning nor purpose.
Even if you spend the rest of your life living having “fun” what does it all matter when evidence (coupled with the lack thereof where it counts) points to all of that disappearing irrevocably when you’re dead and gone, and your consciousness and memories cease to exist? Each moment that moves into the past is a death. We are constantly dying.

About the author: SarahK is a Philosopher/Mechanic/evilscientist that likes to enjoy liquids, acids, alkali, metaphysics, quantum physics, politics, news, chicken sandwiches and theme parks. Her opinion doesn't necessarily reflect that of Villainian but it comes pretty close.