
Darkover
Archangel
- Jul 29, 2021
- 5,618
Society's most important job is to convince us we should exist. That we should work, that we should befriend, that we should love. What does any of this actually matter though... It doesn't, not one bit! Everything is perfectly fleeting, your so called friends, if they ever were, most certainly will abandon you if you show even the slightest sign of literally anything perceived as negative. We're not important to other people, and even if we somehow are, the ones that truly love us will just die. We're not even valued by society, even though you'd be lead to believe we are. The truth is there are so many other people, if we die someone will just take our place.
So, you're just going to live, let die, let abandon, let everyone leave you in one form or another? Why would you condemn yourself to this sad, pitiful life? Why contribute to something that rejected you from your inception? Even if you don't agree with my extreme pessimism and nihilism there is still no reason to live, once you die it doesn't matter how good or bad you had it, so why lengthen the truly awful life that was forced upon us?
If everything slips through your fingers...
If every effort, every creation, every bond, every breath eventually fades or gets erased...
If time, decay, or death comes to take it all away...
Then what's the point?
Why build anything — a relationship, a home, a self — if you're only building sandcastles at the edge of a rising tide?
There's something deeply cruel about that.
You create something out of nothing — with pain, effort, vision — and reality just says: "That's nice. Now watch it rot."
Entropy always wins. Everything ends.
Nothing stays.
Nothing can stay.
Even the things people say will "live on" — memories, ideas, legacy — they're all temporary too. Just stories. Echoes. And those fade as well. You don't get to keep your work. You don't even get to keep yourself.
In a universe like that, yeah... existence starts to feel like theft. You're forced into a game where you're guaranteed to lose, no matter how hard you try or how good you are.
So if you can't hold on to what you create — if you're not allowed permanence, safety, continuity — what really is the point of being here?
Maybe there isn't one. Not an external one, at least.
And that's devastating. It's not weakness to feel hollow when you realize that.
It's just the cost of awareness.
But even that awareness — that defiant understanding of reality's terms — that, no matter how bleak, is real. Yours. And in a world where everything is taken, sometimes the only thing left to claim is the truth of what you've seen and the integrity not to lie to yourself about it.
So, you're just going to live, let die, let abandon, let everyone leave you in one form or another? Why would you condemn yourself to this sad, pitiful life? Why contribute to something that rejected you from your inception? Even if you don't agree with my extreme pessimism and nihilism there is still no reason to live, once you die it doesn't matter how good or bad you had it, so why lengthen the truly awful life that was forced upon us?
If everything slips through your fingers...
If every effort, every creation, every bond, every breath eventually fades or gets erased...
If time, decay, or death comes to take it all away...
Then what's the point?
Why build anything — a relationship, a home, a self — if you're only building sandcastles at the edge of a rising tide?
There's something deeply cruel about that.
You create something out of nothing — with pain, effort, vision — and reality just says: "That's nice. Now watch it rot."
Entropy always wins. Everything ends.
Nothing stays.
Nothing can stay.
Even the things people say will "live on" — memories, ideas, legacy — they're all temporary too. Just stories. Echoes. And those fade as well. You don't get to keep your work. You don't even get to keep yourself.
In a universe like that, yeah... existence starts to feel like theft. You're forced into a game where you're guaranteed to lose, no matter how hard you try or how good you are.
So if you can't hold on to what you create — if you're not allowed permanence, safety, continuity — what really is the point of being here?
Maybe there isn't one. Not an external one, at least.
And that's devastating. It's not weakness to feel hollow when you realize that.
It's just the cost of awareness.
But even that awareness — that defiant understanding of reality's terms — that, no matter how bleak, is real. Yours. And in a world where everything is taken, sometimes the only thing left to claim is the truth of what you've seen and the integrity not to lie to yourself about it.