from the notes app: nothing matters

It’s weird that even though nothing matters, I still itch my leg when I get a mosquito bite. It’s weird that I still think nothing matters. But it’s true, I do. I am happy to exist. I like being alive. But one day I’ll die and then what? Time will still go on. Other people and things and places (and other nouns) will still exist. I will not. Or maybe I will, but not in the way that I can currently comprehend “existing.” 

I’m sitting outside getting bitten by mosquitoes right now. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t much care. Discomfort doesn’t really mean a lot when I’m just a collection of stuff in a temporary arrangement. (I didn’t come up with that. I got it from a vsauce video.) Or, to put it another way, I am just a clod of dirt. (I didn’t come up with that either, it read it in a Murakami book, but I resonate with it.) 

It’s weird to me that as much as I feel like nothing really matters in the long run, I still enjoy life and would like to keep living it in an enjoyable way. Weird. 

Here’s another weird thought: I love books so much. But if I’m eventually going to die, why read books? I want to read as many books as I possibly can in my life. I just love stories exploring all the different ways they can be told. But, if when I die I just stop being, then I’ll have no memories of all the great books I’ve read. And that’s kind of sad. But again, I like being alive, and books are a fun part of being alive, so I guess I’ll keep reading them. 

Speaking of books, I think I can blame this rant/thought dump on the fact that I recently read Endgame by Samuel Beckett. I very much recommend. Other book recommendations include, but are not limited to:

• Franny and Zooey 

• Dandelion Wine 

• Jane Eyre 

• Kafka on the Shore 

• Cat’s Cradle 

• East of Eden 

• The Remains of the Day

• When You Reach Me (This one is for middle schoolers but it is my second favorite book of all time. My first favorite is Jane Eyre.)