What is the meaning of life?
Why does it feel like it escapes me, in the in-between times, when I stop to think? Meaning in love, meaning in work, but if as I lay in bed at night I'm empty...where is the meaning?
Maybe I've already served my meaning and all that's left is meaningless, no destiny remaining, just unguided "free" life.
What a terrifing thought, to think God had nothing more in mind than that which we've already done.
Perusia...
Death is far less frightening than uselessness.
Loneliness is unappreciated solitude.
Pain is proof of life and foil to pleasure.
And heaven is meaningful success...loving bliss...purpose.
Another long day, long night, long week, and excitement damped by disapointment.
But as long as I'm busy, I've no time for idle thought.
(...something pure to burn away the darkness that hides inside my mind. All that evil shit's not hard to find: I guess I only claim to be nice...you live and you burn.)
I love you.