Derelict

Warning: Read this only if you have absolutely nothing else to read. I shall not be surprised if you find this has been an absolute waste if your time besides it is poorly written. I warned you.

I realize now that I do not believe that there is a world of ideas. I also do not care if there is a world of ideas. I realize that whether or not I choose to believe that there is a world of is an afterlife it does not matter too much now here. Where is here anyway? Sometimes I wonder is all of me truly here? Because a belief that there is or is not still precludes a random life. If there is an after-tomorrow or no tomorrow, each action still requires miraculous thought.

I must live life as though there were nothing after but as though there were. That I should be involved without being too involved. We’re all going to die. I should remind you. We tend to forget. Yesterday was and today is and that is exactly how my life was/is. Somethings are merely a matter of fact. You are reading this. I am. The World is. Although this seems to mean little I figure this is quite like all else. I wonder.

What relevance is there of a world of ideas, separate from ours but incomprehensibly linked to it? None whatsoever. At least not now, not to me. Or perhaps it matters and I simply have not have cause to think of it. Even now I have not bothered to do so too well and I will not. I have already said that I do not believe that there is a world of ideas, I will not change my mind, at least not now. But everything changes though- life possesses a remarkable mutability. I’m living this kind of life. Whatever that means I have not bothered to write about though I have pondered it. Truly the question that plagues this mind’s random musings - Why is this life lived like this?