Three inches is such a wretched height to be
“Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.” – Carl Sagan
We are so minuscule in the big picture, but somehow we feel that our own problems are somehow significant and life altering ordeals. We convince ourselves that our choices and feelings matter but the truth is, the universe doesn’t care. It goes right on being the way it will be whether there are lives that hang in the balance or not. It makes you feel kind of helpless when you think of all the things that our very existence depends on are out of our control. We truly are feeble in our abilities to stop or change any act of the universe that could destroy us in one swift moment.
Feeling helpless. That’s not a feeling I like. I like having a plan of action, a goal to work towards. I have a short attention span and I’m impatient which makes monotony feel overwhelmingly unappealing. I spend too much time over-analyzing simple things. I read too much into people’s actions. I jump to conclusions, or sometimes I can’t accept when people tell me things that go against what they actually do. But what’s the point. The purpose of coming to all these conclusions about the people you surround yourself with? We think ourselves so clever when we make up our mind about something. Thinking someday there may be some quiz on our opinions and we’ll know all the answers as to what we think. None of it matters. We are not precious little beings being watched and judged by an almighty authority, we are ants.
But the colony is sick. We are self-absorbed to the point that we can’t even see that we are drowning in solipsism (a theory in philosophy that your own existence is the only thing that is real or that can be known). The fact that I write my thoughts down for other people to read is really quite egotistical. To most of you, I am a flat, two-dimensional character who sometimes appears as you’re scrolling through Facebook and that’s all you are to me. All the people you know are wrapped up in little boxes made up of the adjectives you’ve applied to them and when you aren’t actively involved in their lives, they seem to sit on pause in the background, posting status updates occasionally.
I guess it comes down to doing what you do because you like doing it. Being with people you like being with. Experiencing things you want to experience. Because at the end of the day, the only legacy you are leaving is the memories you have while you’re still alive.