The world is a chaotic place. Perhaps the reason for this is because our universe is simply a surreal painting done by God. Fresh out of God’s imagination, splattered on a canvas with no purpose, left to drip and dry without any help. Like a Jackson Pollock almost. That would at least explain the absurdity of our existence.
It doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve accomplished or what differences you’ve made in this lifetime. In the end, you and everyone else, along with every other existing thing, will eventually fade into non-existence. It’s inevitable. The size of the one’s grave really doesn’t matter, because someday the grave itself will no longer exist.
A chaotic life is probably the best kind of life – or at least the funnest.
Some people try so hard to control every little aspect and every little detail and every little event of their lives. They value structure, and order, and they want everything to be in its right place – as if life is some kind of puzzle that can be put together with a little effort. But when you build a puzzle you’re putting together another persons work of art. Someone else designed the puzzle, and you’re just trying to put it together in a way that the designer wanted you to. This analogy can be applied to life. Everyone tries to get their lives ‘in order’ because they want to please others – because they want to please their parents, or their friends, or because they want to fit in or make something of themselves. The problem is that your life will never be in order – it will always be chaotic, or chaotic to some degree. Even if it was perfectly in order you’d find it extremely boring and not worth the effort. Everyone’s life is like a puzzle, and they’re all trying to put the pieces together hoping that, in the end, it’ll be this beautiful, coherent picture. I, on the other hand, say fuck it, throw the pieces in the air and let them fall where they may.