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Volatilis.
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Literature Text
I constantly wonder about what would happen if I died. Right now. What would happen?
And I always come to the same conclusion:
Nothing. Nothing would happen.
The number of people who would cry for me is lower than the number of fingers hanging from my hands. And when I say the people who would cry for me, what I really mean is the people who would cry for themselves, for their "loss". It's very true; we're a selfish species. We're terrified of losing people. Very rarely do we cry for the person who has passed away; we cry because something is now missing from our lives.
I'm not condemning this mentality. I'm guilty of it too. We're conditioned this way.
However, it does make my life seem even more pointless. My death, whenever it comes to meet me (or when I go to meet it), will be veiled by the self pity of those who cared about me.
Once the people who cared for me get past the "grieving" stage, they will think of me less and less. Sometimes, my memory might wiggle intrusively in between their thoughts of sex and money and TV, begging for attention just long enough for them to think, I miss her today. Elle me manque. She is missing from me.
Again, it isn't about me. It's about them.
And then, one day, somebody will look at a picture of me for the last time; somebody will think about me for the last time; somebody will utter my name for the last time.
What this has made me realise is that my life means very little in the grand scheme of things. I'm such a small, insignificant speck of dust that the universe can't wait to rub out of its eye.
I have no purpose.
This scares me.
And I always come to the same conclusion:
Nothing. Nothing would happen.
The number of people who would cry for me is lower than the number of fingers hanging from my hands. And when I say the people who would cry for me, what I really mean is the people who would cry for themselves, for their "loss". It's very true; we're a selfish species. We're terrified of losing people. Very rarely do we cry for the person who has passed away; we cry because something is now missing from our lives.
I'm not condemning this mentality. I'm guilty of it too. We're conditioned this way.
However, it does make my life seem even more pointless. My death, whenever it comes to meet me (or when I go to meet it), will be veiled by the self pity of those who cared about me.
Once the people who cared for me get past the "grieving" stage, they will think of me less and less. Sometimes, my memory might wiggle intrusively in between their thoughts of sex and money and TV, begging for attention just long enough for them to think, I miss her today. Elle me manque. She is missing from me.
Again, it isn't about me. It's about them.
And then, one day, somebody will look at a picture of me for the last time; somebody will think about me for the last time; somebody will utter my name for the last time.
What this has made me realise is that my life means very little in the grand scheme of things. I'm such a small, insignificant speck of dust that the universe can't wait to rub out of its eye.
I have no purpose.
This scares me.
This is something that always frightens me. The thought of... disappearing. I can handle my physical death; I cannot handle knowing that one day any memory of me will simply cease to exist. It makes me feel so tiny, so unimportant.
It also quashes my desire to live even more... after all, if you're going to be forgotten afterwards, what's the point?
I realise that this sounds very self-centred... but writing often comes from what we're feeling.
This is what I'm feeling.
© Fineliners
It also quashes my desire to live even more... after all, if you're going to be forgotten afterwards, what's the point?
I realise that this sounds very self-centred... but writing often comes from what we're feeling.
This is what I'm feeling.
© Fineliners
© 2012 - 2024 Fineliners
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There is only one cure.
Carve something onto a rock and bury it deep underground. Maybe one day someone will find it? Maybe they won't. But the record will be there.
Actually, though, just because we're not remembered doesn't mean we didn't matter. The way I look at this, I look back at ancient people from, say, 6000 years ago. Every one of them is long forgotten, but they live on in out genes. I also believe that, as insignificant as those long forgotten people may seem now, if even one of them had made different choices, the whole world would be different.
Think about it. If that person was going to have any children at all after that choice that was altered in the timeline, they would have had a different child. The child they would have had would never have been, and would be replaced by another. That, in turn, would have automatically replaced every descendant that child would ever have had.
But what if they would have no more children, of if all of them would have died anyway? Still, the way everyone else's life around them went was impacted by their presence, so if they'd done anything different, that would have changed the lives of everyone else just enough to change the timing of all they did, plus possibly a great number of other things. Every child born to every person who ever knew that nameless individual from the past could be different. Imagine how big the effect of that could be 5000 years after the change.
And all of that is just assuming different sperm fertilize the same eggs, and nothing else in anyone's lives would have been changed by a different choice, but of course, one different choice could do way more than that!
Nothing humans make is ever totally new. Everything we have is based on what we had before. We've all marked the world in some small or large way, and long after we're gone, the world will still be different because of us. For anyone who doesn't believe one person has any effect, have someone from 5000 years in the future go back in time and remove that one person, then go back to the future and observe the effects. No one may remember any of us markers, but our marks are everlasting.
Carve something onto a rock and bury it deep underground. Maybe one day someone will find it? Maybe they won't. But the record will be there.
Actually, though, just because we're not remembered doesn't mean we didn't matter. The way I look at this, I look back at ancient people from, say, 6000 years ago. Every one of them is long forgotten, but they live on in out genes. I also believe that, as insignificant as those long forgotten people may seem now, if even one of them had made different choices, the whole world would be different.
Think about it. If that person was going to have any children at all after that choice that was altered in the timeline, they would have had a different child. The child they would have had would never have been, and would be replaced by another. That, in turn, would have automatically replaced every descendant that child would ever have had.
But what if they would have no more children, of if all of them would have died anyway? Still, the way everyone else's life around them went was impacted by their presence, so if they'd done anything different, that would have changed the lives of everyone else just enough to change the timing of all they did, plus possibly a great number of other things. Every child born to every person who ever knew that nameless individual from the past could be different. Imagine how big the effect of that could be 5000 years after the change.
And all of that is just assuming different sperm fertilize the same eggs, and nothing else in anyone's lives would have been changed by a different choice, but of course, one different choice could do way more than that!
Nothing humans make is ever totally new. Everything we have is based on what we had before. We've all marked the world in some small or large way, and long after we're gone, the world will still be different because of us. For anyone who doesn't believe one person has any effect, have someone from 5000 years in the future go back in time and remove that one person, then go back to the future and observe the effects. No one may remember any of us markers, but our marks are everlasting.