Can you tell me what your purpose is? Why are you here? What are you for, and why does it – you – any of this matter?
My insomnia is leading me into dark places again, questioning everything. This most recent cycle has me demanding to know what I am here for, and why any of this matters at all.
What is the point of my sobriety? My industry? My being present and taking part in life? I can’t see it. I can’t see any reason that gives meaning or purpose to anything right now.
For every answer that offers itself up, I ask “So what?”
So what? You do a job. So what? Does it change the world, make it better? Does it have to? Yes? No? So what. If you die tomorrow, will the world come to an end? And if it does – so what?
Truth is, I’m more and more certain that none of this matters. Nothing. No one.
Everything we do, be it a job, a hobby, a cause, a relationship – is merely a distraction. Every situation is just another cage, a construct designed to keep the machine of man-centered existence rolling forwards.
There is no purpose in our being, or doing anything, except to be a cog in the machine that exists only to create and trap more cogs.
This situation may change but the cage is eternal. Rush, rush. Be ambitious. Make more money to fuel the machine. Be more. Do more. Fit in. Connect. Share. Engage. Honour the cage. Worship the machine. Why?
Don’t question. Don’t disbelieve. Don’t reveal the truth.
Oh, I’m rambling. Confused and disconnected. Too aware that nothing matters and man’s search for meaning – my search for meaning, is pointless.
We live and die and everything in between is merely a distraction from that final event. We need to be distracted because if we realized, really and truly understood that nothing we do or say or think or feel changes the inevitability of death, then we wouldn’t bother with living, with feeding the machine that feeds on us.
So life – cruel, terrible life – gives us hope. A false currency designed to keep us believing in the machine, exist within the cage, having faith in some vague notion of a purpose.
It’s all bullshit. If you simply gave up tomorrow and died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing matters.
Oh but life will trick us into feeling like it mattered, because cruel life has given us the sentimental crutches of emotions. Of love. Of connection. These are all false hooks. None of this will save you from death, from loss, from loneliness.
So we just repeat the patterns and behaviours demanded by the cage. Wake up. Smile. Exchange meaningless pleasantries. Go to work. Repeat the never-ending tasks someone else dreams up to justify your presence. Go home. Exchange more meaningless pleasantries. Sleep. And repeat over and over and over until you achieve death.
I am aware of the machine. I feel the cage. I know my meaningless part in it all. I can’t pretend to care anymore. I can’t pretend that life is a gift and recovery is a blessing anymore. It’s all just bullshit. Different flavours of the machine’s imperative and the cage’s control.
What are we here for, then? Nothing. We mean nothing, are nothing, achieve nothing. There is no point to anything we say, do or feel.
We have no purpose.
©️ Dave Luis 2019. All Rights Reserved.
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