Picture creds, me
I don't matter. Ive come to accept the fact. Nothing anyone does will actually add up to mean anything, not in the grand scheme of things. We all die, and we will all be forgotten. This used to scare me, keep me up during ungodly hours of the night, I needrd a reason to continue, I wanted one. All that changed today. I'm average, below average, maybe, im not as interesting as everyone seems to think. I'll live an average life of lies, a wife, kids, a steady job, and I won't be happy. I don't want any of those things, I don't want to exist. Nothing matters, and thats okay. I am not necessarily on a search for my death, or maybe I am, either way if I got hit by a bus, I wouldn't care, but that doesnt mean I'd step out into traffic. I wish I could find my existence in the space, and the stars. But I cant find myself to do it, they'll always exist, cant relate.
YOU ARE READING
Reaching For Nothing
PoetryThese are short little things of my thoughts, some considered sad, maybe. A lot of them are about space/the sky. I write them when I'm having existential crises. Its primarily written in 2nd person, with "you" but these are primarily my experiences...
