Everything Ends and Everything Matters

Be here, forget any purpose, life is the purpose, all goals are useless, only this moment exists but did it really work like that? Did we ever really exist only in the now? Even right there at the same very second my mind was heavily drifting away with memories of that couch I didn’t remember the colour of and her blue eyes unsure of me and her and us and the innumerable questions she had but she didn’t speak of, the pasta and the wine her cheap sunglasses and smell of summer. I was back there, was I really missing the now if the now was so dull in my basement and four rotten walls and old little laptop writing few lines a day thinking I was going to change the world. I’d rather go back to Notting Hill ego-centered in my inspiration pursuit while she lays there in her fake leather skirt drinking once again I can’t make her happy I just watch her and her fearful movements up and down the kitchen pouring more wine just to pretend she wasn’t waiting for me and that she was busy unconvincingly repeating she was only happy because of all those sun-rays out there and not because of me but what did I know about hers’ or anyone’s happiness? All I knew was that anything real was always changing and she was going to be different tomorrow and probably sad if I was gone if it was raining or she had finished the bottle, a thousand reasons to get upset, we had to stand in the sun while we could.

We searched for happiness instead of searching for more fear and suffering, the only things that could bring us to any sort of breakthrough. It should be in fact the easiest thing in the world since all we did was desire desire desire, and all suffering was caused by desires for permanence that didn’t exist. But we were more concerned with having than with being, having the person we loved, having a better job, more fun and sex, having more friends, more Instagram likes. Where were we in the midst of all? Our generous once-a-week souls trying to peek through the things we cared about, there was too much outer blizzard for anything inner to be made into form. We will hold someone’s hand one day and place it where it’s never been, we will make someone orgasm on a different level and we won’t even know what’s beyond what matters more than being, we will pretend not to see their obvious-like-the-sun pain and we will keep going, to work, to parties, to the beach and so on. There was the having and the being and there was something higher than being, the beings of others and it wasn’t as simple as making someone else happy or doubting whether our own happiness mattered if we couldn’t give it away, no it was more and harder deeply rougher and hardcore above that, imagine the greatest physical pain you’ve ever been through and the multiple brokeness of your heart, the greatest orgasm in your life dipped in a massive bottomless Nutella jar the first sip of a drink after work and combine them all have them simultaneously right now while reading this have them all in your mind in your mouth in your veins and bones and repeat it over and over again. That’s how far we could go beyond having and being, and yet we were still at having, still desiring such common place things and trivialities, how far we could go.

Sitting in the nothingness of nothing too many times we’ve all been disappointed excited to see someone then let down, so what? What difference did that make? Her and I and my starving days her perfect body next to me, sweaty from that not-even-hot day in March, I touch her under her skirt knowing I’d end up hurting her but I touch her insides hard and deep, she is too afraid to let go she also knows pain is inevitable but she goes on sharing her dreams of beach instead of park, counting every grain of sand and every star in the sky and making love to me it’s just an ephemeral dream. We wouldn’t make it to summer and these were all the sun rays we would grab and squeeze and cling to until we end up running towards uncatchable trains to idealistic futures and longer skies. We’d run and run and believe in the reality of it and the excitement of the wander in this beautiful world in our heads, what was going to happen ahead? Tired of running too careful of not hurting one another we’d catch no trains and count nothing we’d just lay down on the grass until it gets too cold, her cold feet and toes seeking for my big arms to keep her warm or perhaps take her to that beach and we try again, we run. What was going to happen ahead?

I found myself walking down St. Paul’s in another unusually sunny London afternoon thousands of lost souls that lived in and off bars, on and off dating apps daily and nightly until the forever-ness of forever or in some region between life and death, and all and everything I did was think of how to change the world aware of the ridiculous sound of it and the naivety of it and on top of all there it was, the immensity of Thames surrounding me like it also knew how big my world was, too big perhaps to wrap around itself what was wrong with this civilization and what was being lost and what people were taking away from themselves. Still right there near Paul’s and near the sun I wished to be enlightened I wished that I could drop my ego completely and just be, in the so-called now, in the present without stony thoughts and worries of making this place better despite the steady fact that me and anyone else who had gotten as far must have discovered – enlightenment was surely impossible in London and such little towns, we wanted it all, all the equality and peace pretend-battles the good life and the simple life, but not the kind of simple I imagined with hands free of smart phones, free souls jumping off the fence somewhere vast, was that the problem of this civilization? Nothing was ever good enough, hasn’t that always been the case  – the desiring for smoothness of things, perfecting situations, going higher rather than backwards in life? It seemed fair and we agreed that this was how life worked universally for all of us unless those were just excuses because it seemed to us that there was no way out, the universe was going to end one day and the only way to escape its death was to find another universe.

The possibility of travelling through wormholes in space-time still existed out there, but would that even be a solution? Escaping the now to only jump into another one and find new discontents not having reached a nirvana that we weren’t even trying to get to anyway, so were we supposed to accept things and just be or strive for a better future or look for different universes to save next generations from extinction or what else? Tell me what do you want out of life, what keeps you going, because everything else apart from this was such a little particle of this incredibly small miniature life how would one find anything truthful in the smallest particle of some tiny object? What we needed was some kind of penetration into the heart of things where life would be bigger than us to be able to see what it was about.

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