Friday, November 14, 2008
Gentlemen, it seems that I am not what I believed myself to be.
Fantasy consumes me with ever increasing intensity and my daydreams exude an aloof appearance. It is only in this final, yet crucial time when motivation slips away, ever silently -- and sloth overwhelms me, ever cruelly. Self-confidence is in the doldrums, but still the march of time taunts me, threatening to snuff my introspections out.
The haunting chirp of crickets drone on through the wee hours of the morning while insomnia keeps me entertained. What am I meant to experience once it all ends?
Relief?
Joy?
Sadness?
Depression?
Alas! Such is the futility of living. The collective insignificance of personal events does nary to make any importance. After all, we all die in the end. Likewise for humankind's descendants -- there is no escape. What use do we have for unlimited energy, a cure for cancer, elimination of poverty or eternal peace? For what do we labour all our lives? Is there any end to the insanity called life? Are there any conditions of victory? Or an end game, for that matter?
Logical deduction would ultimately produce one answer.
The only winning move is not to play.
Such is the paradox inherent in the game of life.
Fantasy consumes me with ever increasing intensity and my daydreams exude an aloof appearance. It is only in this final, yet crucial time when motivation slips away, ever silently -- and sloth overwhelms me, ever cruelly. Self-confidence is in the doldrums, but still the march of time taunts me, threatening to snuff my introspections out.
The haunting chirp of crickets drone on through the wee hours of the morning while insomnia keeps me entertained. What am I meant to experience once it all ends?
Relief?
Joy?
Sadness?
Depression?
Alas! Such is the futility of living. The collective insignificance of personal events does nary to make any importance. After all, we all die in the end. Likewise for humankind's descendants -- there is no escape. What use do we have for unlimited energy, a cure for cancer, elimination of poverty or eternal peace? For what do we labour all our lives? Is there any end to the insanity called life? Are there any conditions of victory? Or an end game, for that matter?
Logical deduction would ultimately produce one answer.
The only winning move is not to play.
Such is the paradox inherent in the game of life.
Labels: rambling