#purposeless

I used to believe in the weight of things that words carried truth that actions had meaning and that love and pain were more than just passing shadows

I believed in the shape of the world that it bent towards justice that life had a thread I could follow I carried purpose like a stone in my pocket and it made me walk straighter even when the nights was so goddamn long

But the stone grew lighter then vanished the streets I walked on were just streets The stars I stared at were nothing more than distant fires with on one to notice the stories I told myself were echoes bouncing off walls that was already crumbling

I looked for truth in religion in art, in people and everywhere I looked the same pattern repeated empty hands, empty eyes empty answers and slowly the question of why turns inward and finally there was only the silence behind the question

I stopped pretending there was a reason the fear of meaningless that once haunted me was replaced by a strange relief if nothing matters, ok then nothing can break me if all is passing then there is nothing to lose

I see the sun rise and fall without hope or dread I hear laughter and tears without expectation time drifts by and I drift with it not toward a goal not away from one simply floating

I do not mourn the loss of purpose I do not rage against the void I stand in it I breathe in the nothingness and let it fill my lungs it is vast it is indifferent it is all there is