I assume like me, you are still human. I assume like me, you know one day you’ll die (if you don’t, well…I’m sorry? You will though). I assume like me. the big questions also float in the seminal fluid of your mind like sperms giddy to start a new life.
Today one of the gigantic ones popped up in my mind-semen on the way home:
What is the point of all this?
Yeah, yeah. I don’t expect you to come up with an answer. With a satisfying answer that is. That’s too broad a question to ask. But sometimes you just can’t help it. You look at your life and you feel as if someone just vacuumed your tummy so that you just have empty space between your breasts and your hips because you keep doing things that others tell you are the keys to success (as if that S-word means the same for everyone) when you claim you know what really matters in life and those are not it.
What really matters in life anyway?
Maybe you’re not like me after all. Maybe this question doesn’t hold that much weight on you–perhaps because you believe you already have, and are so busy living the answer. Well yay for you! But then maybe you’ve given up hope. Or maybe you just don’t care anymore.
I do though. I want to live a good life.
Maybe it’s because of vanity; that longing to defeat death in a way by leaving imprints of yourself. I want to leave imprints that will make people remember me in a good way. But even then, this doesn’t really matter. For the people who remember you will eventually die. The people whom they shared your imprints will die too. As well as the next generation shared with memories of your existence. All will die, until not a single person in the future will remember you have ever lived.
Death still won after all. You’ve never really defeated it, only escaped it for a while longer.
So does it really matter? Maybe not in the big picture of Everything That Is.
But it still matters to me, living a “good” life. Because…because maybe I owe it to all the good stuff, commitments, deeds, hocus-pocus that resulted to whatever good that is now. Whatever’s good in me. Because I think I believe good begets good still; I don’t want to sow something awful and wicked and rotten because I just don’t. Maybe I’m not bitter enough about everything yet. And I don’t want to be.
I wonder if you’re the same.
So yes, living a good life. Let’s go back to that question of what matters in life, because figuring that out would be like getting that first kiss that leads to a hundred of orgasmic nights. Or mornings. Or whatever rocks your bed.
So what matters in your life now, future self? (And I wonder if–by any chance–you are sex-obsessed?)
I am kind of in mushy ground right now. Like it used to be a cemented road but a giant who just ate truckloads of oatmeal dumped on it. That mushy. Well, mushy might not really be the right word but euphemisms are still used in this era, remember? You see, I thought I was certain of what matters in life. But now not so much.
I mean, people matter most of all right? Especially the ones you care about. You should try to make as many meaningful connections as possible.
That’s how you get remembered, right? That’s also how you make an impact–hopefully a good one–on anything and anyone. Connections. So is that what matters? Building meaningful connections?
But then it’s a two-way thing. You can’t make a connection by yourself. You can try of course, but like good sex, it requires work from the other side.
Sometimes connections just fail because of our own selfishness.
People are so selfish, aren’t we? No point denying it. Selfishness has only become morally acceptable because we find a way to satisfy our selfishness at the same time satisfying that of others. Do that, and people would only be too willing to call your act any other name but selfishness. Not that I have a problem with that. I think it’s ” good” selfishness; a win-win situation.
But then sometimes people are just “bad” selfish. Like all they care about is satisfying themselves. That’s where the connection links break.
I don’t know where this is going, future self. I think I started ranting about the seeming pointlessness of life, then saying perhaps there is yet a point only that you have to find it–or make it–then I ranted again about how difficult it is to live to that point.
I wonder what happens after we die. But that’s for another letter.
This time I want to focus on living. Talking about it at least, how to live. Maybe I should just stop writing and start living my life. Start making connections. Or try to. But then again I am trying to make this connection to you. So I guess I kinda am living my life.
Future self, I hope you still have and always will have a reason to live.
I think that’s really the first kiss towards a hundred orgasmic nights.