It’s the 2nd Jan 2018 and I can’t sleep.
I have a hundred things going round my head and I can’t process them or make sense or decisions about them. Here’s a few of the weird things in my head:
- If I don’t buy a house soon will I never buy a house?
- I need to sort out the water bills to direct debit
- I’ve not written anything of value for 4 years
- I’m worried about work tomorrow and bizarrely it’s the prospect of HR forms that makes my blood run cold
- I’d like a dog but am not in enough
- I’d like a cat but am not in enough
- I read an article about someone who really changes people’s lives and that felt far from me
- Do I ever want kids?
- I watched Trumbo and thought about having a moustache
- I miss feeling inspired to write
- I’m really unfit
- I feel anxious a lot, like too much, stuff gets to me incredibly quickly, most notably anything about bills and money.
Most of all however I’ve been thinking about this:
I am 12,144 days old.
This day in 2020 – I’ll be 35¼ years.
This day in 2030 – I’ll be 45¼ years.
This day in 2050 – I’ll be 65¼ years
This day in 2080 – I’ll be dust.
In 2080 my body will mix with soil and earth, my mind will have faded and gone and what will remain will be slowly evaporating memories, lost moments and quiet. I will have gone and I’ve no idea where. My mind, thoughts, spirit, feelings, insecurities will either dissolve like the chemical reactions they are, or, what? I’ve no idea what the purpose will have been, if life is a line and not a circle then what’s the master plan, what doors are opened, what difference is made, or are we all, fundamentally, at the very core of our being fighting for meaning in a universe where our existence will disappear in a flash. Will any of it matter?
I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll ever know and it scares the shit out of me.