What is the meaning of life?
Is it to be remembered?
To have people tell stories of you after you are gone?
Is it to change the world?
To make an impact in the blink of existence allotted to us?
To create something that will last?
Last until everybody you knew or who knew you is dead?
Humans are obsessed with finding a meaning.
A goal.
To matter.
We are born onto an assembly line that is
go, go, go, go, go
and then it ends.
What is left?
We never take time to think about how beautiful it is just to exist.
How, for this moment to be happening, the universe had to be created.
And through an incomprehensible sequence of events you ended up here.
In this moment.
This is a miracle.
There is no need to force yourself to matter, you already do.
You are the product of billions and billions of years of work.
Cherish it.
For the words flow so much easier when you aren't trying to force them,
when you simply sit and watch the sunset and listen to the birds.
What is the meaning of life but to exist?
I'm pretty sure I wrote this instead of an essay that was due the next day. another part of the word dump sorry