Meaningless This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   When I was younger, I remember if I thought a certain way, suddenly everything would seem completely unreal. I would realize what AM I? What is this life I am in? Why is it like this? Does anyone know what's really going on? I would feel totally alien, like I could see everything, except none of it had any real meaning. Everything - the trees, my friends, and especially me - was just here for no specific purpose. Except we all never realized it because we were too busy doing meaningless, everyday things. I remember how it felt to feel like that for a few seconds, but I can't do it anymore. I think society messes with our heads. How we saw things as children is so much purer and closer to the truth.

None of us really has anyone but ourselves. When you look at the very base of all our actions, everything we do is just to sustain ourselves. Even if someone really loves someone else and would do anything for them, they are really only seeking comfort and security for themselves, even if they aren't aware of it. The human race seems like a bunch of sperm trying to reach the egg. We are all in it together, but really, we are only trying to reach the next level, blindly moving toward the next phase of existence.

We are all utterly and completely alone. We all have different perspectives of reality, so we are isolated within our own separate universes. Maybe I just think I am in this world, but it is only a creation of my own mind, and everything that happens is just a figment of my own personal dream. Everything I see could be a part of my imagination and I have absolutely no way to tell. Even my own body may not be real. How do I know that it is not my thought alone or just my essence of being that actually exist?

No one will ever know anything for sure because how can there be any way to tell? It seems like our society is only here to give us problems to figure out and things to do. Humans need things to figure out and organize, but every mystery you try to unravel, instead of becoming smaller and simpler, becomes so huge and tangled that it is infinite. There are just too many possibilities. There is one big meaning out here somewhere but it is like a giant web and just as you peer into one part of the pattern, it fans out and becomes the whole pattern itself so that it will never be deciphered.

Life is such a sick joke. There probably is no meaning. We are probably just a freak accident. Maybe the whole infinite universe just popped up from some little accidental deviation in some cosmic DNA in another dimension altogether, and we have no meaning because we were never meant to happen anyway. ?


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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