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A 3 AM soliloquy.
Sometimes I think that space and the constellations and the moon are all just lies,
hiding us from some terrible truth; blinding us from what is right.
Is any of this even real? How do I know?
Questions upon questions run through my mind every minute that passes, keeping me from sleep.
Will the world just simply end one day, ending us along with it? How selfish.
We will all become a mass of chemicals floating around in some eternal dark abyss.
Is that really how it will all end?
The climax of this earth will be its own death? How sad.
This poor earth, tired and weary,
having no choice in the matter of its own continuation of life.
Or does it?
Can it, simply, with the snap of its giant fingers,
decide to terminate its purpose in this universe? How unfair.
Life may have now been getting good for some of us.
This tragic story of uncertainty and perplexity has no proper ending,
For you can make that ending all you want it to be.
Control your plot,
And please, do not spend an entire three-quarters of your life in some depressing,
inebriated and brain-washed manner.
We all know where that leads us.
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