As vague as that might have sounded, it is what's 'ultimate' right now. Did I come to be as a culmination of chaos? Does my perception distort reality to such a degree that it is incomprehensible to any fellow Homo sapiens (if in fact they are real)? Does my significance actually amount to nothing? Do my values, my beliefs matter even on the smallest, tiniest scale? Is my infinitesimally 'tiny' self ever going to make a difference? I don't know. So, it doesn't matter, you see - truth doesn't matter at all anymore.
There is a void inside of me like a collapsing novae. Sucking everything in as it crumbles seemingly into non-existence. One day, maybe today or tomorrow or the day after and just like a star does, it is going to explode. Someday, I am going to be so over-whelmed by my own consciousness that the heaven watch in awe (perhaps, or perhaps in silence) as my pathetic non-existence cries out one last time for a brief moment of acknowledgement as I burn out into a secluded, ominous form - hollow, feared and loathed. But, that doesn't matter either. Someday I am going to die. Or, am I already?
The night sky glitters all the same. It is enticing at the least. It gives me a smile - depreciating maybe but a moment of awe in which I find myself drawn into staring at them, looking at them and realizing - just getting a hint of how passionate they are over what they do is worth the mockery I sustain myself. And, who is to say it matters anyways? Betelgeuse might already have said her last words. Orion nebulae might already have harbored life. And, somewhere some really intelligent civilization might be looking over our little planet - our dear Earth's past version, in her teens as vanity reigns her and she tries to take over the bears' home. Maybe she will survive long enough to freeze over even but I won't be around. No, I won't be around as the ones looking over us decide to pose as 'God' one more time or when our Sun decides his daughter is getting a bit too vain and puts a stop to her advances. So may possibilities and yet the only thing I can be certain of is that my conscious mind will never be able to see what really happens. Maybe nobody (humans, at least) is that lucky. So, you see, it doesn't matter.
I am but a mere human, separated by the rest of life-form by a power to contemplate, to imagine. That's it. No entirity of anything. No truth for me, for us. We are dead inside and it will reflect out soon.
