I am very tired. Exhausted, in fact. My brain feels strangely tight, like it has expanded inside my skull and is starting to bulge against the bone. After I write this, I am going to lie down, and sleep, to drift on the dark and pleasant waters of my dreams, the only place where I feel truly happy.
As always, I spent the day in a state of lost productivity. What does the phrase “lost productivity” mean, you might ask? Well, I’ll tell you. “Lost productivity” is the phrase I use to refer to days where I am reasonably productive, but even though I do get some work done, and that in and of itself is satisfying to a certain degree, I still feel lost, deep inside my heart, because I don’t understand life, I fear death, and I feel great pain in regards to the suffering that probably occurred all over the world while I was being productive, at my desk, in my cosy little first-world environment. Even if my wildest dreams were to come true, even if I found true love, and had my own family, my own children, a job I adored, even then, my days would still be days of “lost productivity”, as the state of lost productivity is the state of the human condition, and therefore inescapable.
All over the world, people close their eyes to the surrounding darkness and focus on the work right in front of them, nurturing their small scrap of light in so gloomy a universe, hearts shivering with fear even as they work furiously and intensely for hours on end. The way I see it, seeing as we’re all going to die, suffering is inescapable, and time passes regardless of how much we may cling to the present and the past and hope for the future, then we might as well spend our short time on this planet wisely and productively. It doesn’t matter if we don’t spend our time productively, but, you know, if everything is insignificant and meaningless, then you might as well take the better route, if you see what I mean, and do a little good in this world, make a contribution to humanity, that sort of thing.
The world is in a bad state, that is one thing I am quite certain of. The inequality that exists is appalling, shocking, beyond belief—yet everything is meaningless, and insignificant, even ourselves, so my heart, in the face of such suffering, is calmed by that fact. We are tiny things, you see, and it matters little whether we live or die, so why should we be afraid of death, of life, of pain or suffering? Might as well just smile, keep on working, and make the best of things, because, well, what else can you do? That’s life, you see: even when it is awful and horrible, people just keep on going, because that’s all you can do. When the world falls apart, you just have to keep on going and pick up the pieces. That’s all it is, I think. People die, worlds fall apart, a thousand souls scream in agony—and life goes on.
Well. My headache is getting worse. Goodnight.