Existence


You know, at times, I feel like my whole existence sums up to this one single agenda which is: how to be there for somebody. I am like this person to whom everyone would come up and share their shit and feel relaxed. No one asks about my shit. Nor do I tell it on my own. I don’t know why. Gotta improve in that area, I guess. Nevermind. Actually, no one cares. People are here just to constantly remind you of the fact that the only purpose of your existence is to be there for them. They feel like the whole world revolves around them. And this is not for any specific group or community, everyone is like this. And calling them selfish wouldn’t be right. Because maybe that’s the whole purpose. To exist on this planet and during that process, if we have to emotionally connect or disconnect with someone just to make ourselves feel better, for our own pleasure, then do hell with mankind.

Gotta use every fucking being, emotionally, physically, no matter how, but gotta use every fucking being to create a space around myself in which I feel comfortable.

Funny how everyone is doing the same shit and no one seems to notice the pattern. After all, maybe that’s why we are called social animals. I wonder if people had a choice between choosing their “loved” ones and going to a different planet to live a few more years, which planet would they choose. Christopher Nolan was right, maybe. People won’t be making a space station if they knew that it’s being made for some other people who won’t return ever. Our selfishness defines us.

Does anyone know how long can things be kept inside before they burst out like a volcano or something? I just hope they can stay there for a decade or two. It would be ugly. The explosion, I mean.

I wish God gave us a choice like Hey man, do you wanna become an introvert or extrovert? I’d have chosen extrovert, on any fucking day. Being an introvert sucks, really. Can’t help, though. Gotta go, selfless creatures.

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